The Looking Glass
by Sanetwin
Summary: Angels and Humans. Two worlds that contrast in almost every way begin to clash as four individuals are drawn together and change everything.
1. Chapter 1

The Looking Glass

A long time ago, when the world was bright and youthful, when the air was free from the heavy weight of pollutions and the trees covered the earth in a cool embrace and protected the earth from the burning sun.

A long time ago, the Angels and the Humans lived together in peace. Two entirely different species became the brothers and sisters of one world.

The humans used to praise their evolved brother species, fascinated by the majesty and intrigued by the might angels possessed.

However, as time spun its complicated web, Man experienced hardships beyond their imagination, sparking the flame of resentment to burn and glower within themselves.

A dark creeping envy started to harvest in Man's pure heart, envy for the long feathered wings that shielded their brothers from harm, sheltering them from the claws and teeth of the harsh raging beasts of their world.

Darkness began to fester in Man's heart and began to tarnish the image of their naïve brothers.

The sparking of resentment started a new age, boiling the weak-hearted and envy-tainted humans over into an unimaginable rage. Before one could blink, one untimely action lead to another, breaking out into a fury of outbreaks and rebellions, and just like that, the time of peace shattered.

The brothers and sisters of Earth turned against each other, sweeping into a bloodthirsty war that neither one had imagined centuries earlier.

The war stretched over centuries, Man's skin becoming harder and thicker from the centuries of bloodshed and scratches, as the angels became weak and frail. Generations of new life were wasted away in the bloody fire of death from their war.

In a last surging hope for rekindling their dwindling species, the brother species reluctantly split from their darkening world.

Where they had fallen, no one can particularly remember.

Whispered rumors could say they still live somewhere, a life separated from the humans but still intact with the weak threads and strings that had made them siblings in the first place.

Centuries pass and the blood washed away as the world twisted and turned like a rubix cube in the hands of the now most powerful species in the world, the humans. With the world's chang almost all traces of the angels' benevolent existence vanished, leaving only the faint stain on Man's brain of their winged brothers.

Where truth once lay, imagination now triumphed and connected the sparce clues angel's left behind. Now the "truth" lies in the obscure stories of these winged creatures. Some were fables about wild, demented beasts with feathered wings and an unquenchable thirst for blood.

While others were exaggerated tales of divine beings whose sole purpose was to guard and protect humans.

Throughout these fables, Man was always the hero of the story, brave and strong, and that was what people wanted to hear. They abandoned their brother tribe into the past and retold them to suite their own wild imaginations.

Yet, somehow through this process of retelling history, they managed to forget a single detail. The seemingly insignificant detail of a hidden portal and an even smaller key within the world of the angels was lost to humanity.

The key that would have reunited the worlds again, and clash the brother and sister tribes together, for better or for worse.

Such a detail was so easily forgotten, and of course a lie to behold, so no one took much notice when the key was used again, forcing to merge their paths once more.

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><p>~~X~~<p>

A small, brunette girl sits in the soft soil of the forest floor, while the rest of the angels are off playing; she sits alone with her thoughts. Her pallor hands dig away at the roots intertwined in the dirt as today's lesson replays in her mind.

She vaguely remembers the days when her classes included performing the perfect curtsy, learning immaculate manners or singing.

Her ivory wings flutter and disturb the warm, peaceful air with its agitated flapping; memories surge from beneath her eyelashes, flashing behind her eyelashes in a flickering pace.

A much younger version of herself smiling broadly, as she listens, her eyes widen with and unblinking attention up at the elder. He rambles softly about the importance or rather of being grammatically correct, holding yourself in a way so that your shoulders never slouch and your spine never curves.

His voice always had a calming affect on her, rumbling in a low gruff sound as it left from his quick moving lips. Well, it _used _to have a calming affect. That all seemed to change when she turned sixteen.

They no longer learned about the dainty lace of doilies, or how to curtsy with perfection. The elder's cease to care if the angels could identify when a pitch became flat or sharp in any range of voices. Instead, they learned of blood and broken feathered wings, and tales of the unimaginable rage their untamable brother species had felt.

The rest of her class had shivered with horror and disgust while she had looked around to her friends with their heads in their hands and had wondered why they didn't find these humans as fascinating as she did.

Her imagination roared to life as images played out in her mind of all the curious things they did. Their need to label things, colonize things, it absolutely fascinated her; it awakened something within her, a need, a small flickering desire to see the other world and its inquisitive disasters and beauty.

Her deep, chocolate eyes flitter around the forest and focus on the stray beams of sunlight reaching through the thicket of trees. With a sigh, her fingertips run through the stray beams of light and she feels the slight warmth tingle her fingertips.

The day is perfect, not too hot but not too cold, immaculate, just as it had been yesterday, the day before, and every day she can remember in her short life. She closes her eyes and tries to piece together all of what the elders have told her. Dark eyebrows furrow as she tries to imagine a rainy day. What would it taste like?

She imagined the thick, misty air but could only hear the elder's words, how blood would wash down the soiled mountains like rivers as the rain had washed it away from the mangled bodies of the angels.

She wants to know how rain would feel. What would it look like as it falls from the sky onto their world? However, after a long moment she lets out an exasperated sigh and opens her eyes, it is useless; all she can imagine is the same warm embrace of the sun she has felt every day of her life.

Her bare feet scratch against the soft earth as she stands up, the muscles contract in her back as her wings stretch to its fullest, each ivory feather illuminating in the soft light. It isn't that she doesn't appreciate the peace, or adore the world's constant beauty, or admire its calmness…it's just that…where's the thrill in a new day if every day is spent like the last one?

She walks through the forest in a daze, hardly paying much mind to where her feet were taking her. She walks without thought, as if there was rope tightened around her chest, lightly guiding her to where she needs to be.

She barely notices the elders gliding through the air, their dark cloaks flapping in the wind. There is no way to identify an elder as one person, their voices are all kind and soft and all of them are men, their stature is tall and strong but never intimidating and their unique features are hidden by the cloak. Only their shaven chins poke out from the shade of the cloak.

The girl walks past the cherry blossom trees, their branches stretching in the non-existent breeze.

She walks by the angels, all in their uniformed clothing of plain white shirts and black slacks for the boys and pallid, loose dresses for the girls. All the young angels run and giggle around two tall copper bells, the dawning bell and the caliginosity bell.

One bell rings in the morning to bring about a new day and the last bell alerts the beginning of night and puts the tired day to rest until the next day is ready to arise.

The girl walks in silence for a long time, too deep in thought to notice how far away from the community she was going. Her heart thumps with disinterest as she walks through the groves of flowers, the birds above her chirp the same song they have been singing since day one.

She can't help but feel like there is something missing, she had always found herself looking at the small angels playing in the grass and wondering what she was missing as their wings flapped joyously as they play tag for the millionth time that day.

A musty smell rips the girl out of her thoughts and she finds herself in front of a mysterious old building, must have been the only building in her tiny world. It isn't until she stops walking that she feels the slight ache in her legs from overuse.

"Wow…" She breathes and looks around only to find the landscape around her foreign. Weeds scratch at her knees and grasp at the loose fabric of her dress, "How long have I been walking for?" The only answer she receives is the faint shadows licking at her frame as the sun hides behind the cover of the thick forest in the distance. She knows she should be worried, young angels should not be alone in the dark. How irresponsible. However, she cannot help but feel the slight trill of curiosity reverberate through her chest.

So she turns back to the curious building, and tilts her head slightly to see it better.

Time has crumbled its mud brick walls but still charcoal colors the building with its designs. She walks into the building and squints as her eyes adjust to the sudden change in lighting; the only light comes streaming in from the hole at the top of the structure.

As her eyes adjust, she sees that the structure is circular, charcoal designs illustrate the walls around her, the dark figures dance around her in the circular room. Her fingertips brush the rough texture of the wall and she sees a group of dark figures outlined in the charcoal. The dark musty clay that figures the men smells odd and sharp, spiking a chill to crawl up the angel's spine.

Each figure held spears of various sizes and shapes, surrounding a single charcoal figure with black, charcoal wings jutting out of its back. It sits on its knees in the middle of the crowd with its hands up, and as the girl looks farther down the illustrations, she watches as one by one the charcoal people throw their weapons at the defenseless charcoal angel, the sharpened sticks piercing the angel figure; it's black blood seeps into the decorative wall.

It sets her teeth on edge and a small but certain shiver begins to curl at the base of her spine.

At the end of the room, a dark hole is cut out of the mud bricks, she inches closer and cringes, knowing immediately where the stale smell was originating. Crouching on her knees, she looks into the small cave, her heart flutters when she sees a faint light at the end of the darkness.

Small, carved letters scrawled out methodically at the foot of the cave catches the girl's attention. With a small breath, the girl leans in, her breath brushing the loose dust free from the collected pile upon the floor.

In a small voice, she whispers: "Beyond this cave lie The Looking Glass and its Key…" Her eyebrows furrow with confusion…it couldn't be what she is thinking…all those stories she was told about the portal to an outside world comes to her mind…it couldn't possibly be that…could it?

A loud clamor rips the girl out of her daze and with a small yelp; she spins around to find the culprit standing at the foot of the structure.

Two large, extended wings leave dark, daunting shadows in the small room, the brunette steps back into he wall as an irrational fear keeps her wings out and alert, flexing and always ready for the opportunity to flee.

The dark, lithe silhouette inches closer to the small angel, the brunette crouches, ready for her wings to swoop her up and out of the room in seconds. However, a familiar giggle makes her hesitate and within seconds, she finds herself with an armful of a tall, lean and very blonde angel.

"I found you!" the other girl giggles again, making the brunette sigh and relax. In the silky darkness, the smaller girl can see her friend's brilliant smile and can't help but smile a bit in return as she gives her friend an obligatory kiss on the cheek in greeting. "You are really bad at hide and seek; you looked like you were sleep-walking!" The girl giggles and jump from the shorter girl's embrace, scrambling out of the building to hide once more.

The brunette just sighed, it seemed as if she was constantly playing a game with this girl and half the time she was completely unaware the game even existed.

She called out for her friend lamely, unwilling to leave her discovery so soon.

After a long moment, the taller girl peeks her head at the opening of the structure, long; tendrils of blonde hair covered the girl's pale eyes as she cocks her head to the side. "Have you forgotten the rules again?"

"Do you have any idea where we are standing?" The girl huffs out impatiently at her oblivious friend. Her friend's expression remains confused, the girl's ever-present smile drooping slightly with bewilderment. "This could be the key out of here!"

"Well…why would you ever want to leave?" The blonde's pink lips turn down in a befuddled pout and all the brunette can do is stare, her lips slightly apart as she glances at the cave to her friend and back again. She doesn't know how to answer that question, because honestly, she doesn't know why she isn't happy here.

"Don't you ever get the feeling that something is missing?" Her voice cracks slightly and she stomps her foot when her friend continues to stare at her blankly "Aren't you even slightly curious?" Her friend is clearly frowning now; she stands at the opening of the cave, staring at her fidgeting hands and shuffling her feet.

"I like it here, this is my home…" She murmurs gently

"Who says we are going to stay there? Just go out and see what the fuss is all about, just one day. One day where there aren't uniformed dresses or routines…" she licks her lips and smiles faintly "We can experience something different" the two of them stare at the small opening in a daze, two entirely different things going on in their minds.

The smaller angel thinks about all of things she has never seen and experiences she has never felt but longs for them with all of her heart; and the other is conflicted with peer pressure.

However, a deep ringing reverberates through the cave and rips the two angels from their daze. It's the chiming of the caliginosity bell; indicating that the day is done and night is upon them. It is another rule and another routine and it breaks the small dream fluttering in the shorter girl's mind, reminding her of her place, her home.

With a small sigh, her shoulders slump, her feet drag against the ground, her wings drooping with defeat as she walks out of the cave. Her friend however, immediately brightens; her smile once again on her lips and her dazzling blue eyes shine with delight. The previous conversation already forgotten in her friend's mind at the bell.

"I wonder what is for supper!" She jabbers excitedly and the smaller girl smiles faintly at her friend as a cold, sharp feeling settles in her chest; for living in such a peaceful world with no judgments or labels, she has never felt so alone.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

**A/N:** Thank you for the reviews everyone! I'm loving them!

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><p>The smell of whiteboard marker overwhelms the room as the history teacher rambles to a class that has stopped listening to him a little more than an hour ago. Quinn stares down at her notebook and flicks her pen around her fingers as she thinks. A small, paper history teacher sits in the middle of her page. It sits completely still and looks up at its creator's cruel smirk in silent horror. With perfect precision, she guides her pen down to the paper and as if it were a deadly weapon, she stabs the pen into the flimsy paper, and watches as the ink sinks into the paper and corrupts its clean, white material with dreadful, blue ink.<p>

Hazel eyes blink as Quinn appreciates her artwork. The poor, tortured drawing of the history teacher sits with a grim frown and wide, knowing eyes. His nose takes up the entirety of his face with its hideous lumpiness; unfortunately, for the drawing, this is not its only misfortunate feature. A vile wart sits on its chapped lips, deep sweat stains ruin its white shirt, and an embarrassing puddle of blue ink collects beneath the drawing's feet; and to top it all off, his dark, wispy hair is in a awful comb-over, completing an overall hideous profile of the history teacher. Quinn giggles maliciously at her drawing, embarrassing the poor creature even further; however, before she is able to increase its torment, a hand stills her movements and her artwork is quickly ripped from her notebook. The history teacher looks down at the paper through narrow eyes and blanches slightly. The man clears his throat and puts Quinn's creation out of its misery as he crumples up her paper and throws it towards the garbage. His weak voice trembles as he tells her that she should consider paying more attention in class, or leave. The girl only smiles and stands up, collecting her notebooks and backpack and in a flurry of red and white, she is gone.

Quinn walks through the school with her hands on her hips and her head tilted upwards as if she were a queen and this school is her kingdom. The campus was practically empty other than the occasional student hiding out in the bathrooms, so she walks to her hide out undetected.

She walks out of the football field, past the portable bathrooms and towards her destination behind the bleachers.

With a deep sigh, she throws her backpack on the dirt, collapses next to the post, and rests her head on her knees. She knows her history teacher will call her parents for getting in trouble and she groans at the thought of the argument she will have later…well…less of an argument and more of a…sit still and apologize while her father scolds her. Her smirk slowly turns into a frown as she thinks of her last arguments she has had. She always closes her eyes, because behind her red-faced father will be her mother, smiling sadly to herself as she pours herself another glass of wine. She hates those days; a shiver shudders from deep within her. It isn't her fault that her history teacher is so damn boring, she can't even remember the man's name; she zoned out on the first day. She never bothered to hear another weak, squeaky sound from him again after "Hello class". A dark chuckle rips Quinn from her thoughts and she throws her head back and sits straight, hating the idea of anyone seeing her in a position of weakness. She relaxes slightly when she sees her friend clad in the same Cheerios uniform, her hair pulled back tightly and a smoking cigarette held loosely in her bronzed hands.

"Hey Q, wanna have a smoke?" The girl says, dark humor glinting in her black eyes as she twirls the cigarette in her hands.

"No way Santana, my parents would figure me out the moment I walked through the door, I wouldn't even have time to open my mouth before I was kicked out." She huffs out in disgust, yet, despite herself, she can't help but glance at the cigarette longingly. It sets a certain thrill through her at the thought of taking it and pushing it past her lips. It's not exactly the thought of getting blackened lungs that urges her quietly, it's the fact that she can't have it, and that thought is poisonous enough to make her stomach to knot into gnarled ropes. Santana simply shrugs and puts the burning stick to her lips and inhales. "Besides, it's a sin to have impure thoughts and smoking is most definitely impure" Santana chuckles and blows out a puff of smoke in Quinn's face.

"Suit yourself" Santana falls down gracefully beside Quinn and runs the hand free from the cigarette through her silky black hair.

The two girls sit together like this for what feels like hours. The only thing that can be heard is the occasional bird chirping, trying to escape the upcoming storm and Santana's deep breaths as she inhales the burning smoke. Quinn stares at the black tip of the cigarette and watches as it slowly crawls up the white, rolled up paper. Little, red embers slowly eat up the cigarette, and with each deep breath the paper is slowly deteriorate until it is nothing but a shriveled up bud, no longer useful or wanted. Santana flicks the used up bud without a second thought and Quinn blinks, breaking away from her daze. The blonde cheerleader sighs as her expression prints into a discomforted grimace. She's doing it again, thinking too much.

"So why are you out here anyway?" Santana murmurs, the callous tinge to her voice having left with the thick, burning smoke.

"I drew another picture of the history teacher" She says just as softly, almost shamefully, the upcoming scolding already on her mind; however, a small smile pricks at her lips when Santana throws her head back and laughs. "I couldn't keep it though; he grabbed it with his tiny mouse hands." The darker girl beside her covers her face as she attempts to hold in her cruel laughter and Quinn manages a small giggle for the sake of entertaining her friend. "At least I know what to add to the drawing next time."

"Did he call your parents?" All the humor drains from Quinn's face and she kicks a loose rock and curses her friend silently.

"Probably" her voice sounds small and she clears her throat and tries to sit straighter, always trying to come off stronger than she felt. Quinn pauses as a soft and warm hand grazes her shoulder, patting it lightly and rather awkwardly.

"I'm sorry" Santana murmurs, her voice is as gentle as it will ever be and they both sit in the silence once again. The weight on Quinn's shoulder becomes uncomfortable; she doesn't like being sympathized with, especially by Santana. She coughs, trying to break the sudden silence and shifts away from the other girl, hoping to end the soft moment as quickly as possible.

Quinn hates the silence; it is the only time the truth can be heard. The truth that, despite the girl's most obvious differences, in the silence, all that can be seen is their blaring similarities. They are both Lima Losers with terrible, over-bearing parents and a dreadful destiny that with every breath they take, they are one-step closer of becoming old, useless, shriveled up shadows of the woman they are now.

The silence becomes unbearable so Quinn shoves Santana's hand off her shoulder

"Get your dirty hands off me." The cruel words slip from her lips without permission, her desperation to fill the wordless void ends with malice. With a sigh, she smoothes out the imperfections in her Cheerios uniform and stands straight; after a long moment, she holds her hand out to the girl beneath her. Santana's ebony eyes are ablaze as they bounce from the outstretched hand towards her grim expression. With a sneer, she jumps up on her own and smacks away Quinn's hand. The sympathetic glint in her black eyes is all gone and replaced with an angry glare. While brushing invisible dirt from her uniform, Santana sneers at her friend and shoves her while moving away from the bleachers.

"Whatever loser, see you in Cheerios practice, hope you don't fall" Her best friend's harsh tone is once again laced with threats.

Quinn stands beneath the bleachers and watches her friend leave her, the girl clad in a red and white uniform quickly leaving Quinn alone with her mind and that horrible silence that makes her say awful things. A few stray raindrops fall from the ominous, cloudy sky, making it past the protection of the bleachers, hits her straight on the cheek. She groans and falls back to the ground, wiping furiously at her cheek. God she hates the rain.

After what feels like hours, a consistent bell rings throughout the school grounds, and within seconds, the campus swarms with desperate students as they try to escape the school grounds.

It is the harsh bump of impatient students swarming past her that knocks Quinn out of her thoughts, and with a sigh, she kneads her temples and walks towards the field for practice.

~~ X ~~

Everything aches.

Quinn groans as her hands attempt to work out the knot forming in her neck and curses as her sneaker clad foot lands on the cement strangely and shoots jolts of pain up her leg. Quinn stares blankly at the path in front of her, palely illuminated by the crescent moon hanging lazily above her, as she walks through the school grounds. The temperature has gone down with the sun, leaving the night air brisk and wet with the occasional sprinkle of water from the ominous clouds above. All her mind can process is the warmth of her car and curses herself for parking so far away today.

That is when a soft hum of sound breaks through the haze of Quinn's mind; subconsciously she drifts towards the sound and soon finds herself in front of the auditorium. The soft hum of sound turns into a chorus of voices, Quinn walks into the auditorium and sees a gawky group of misfits and her boyfriend on the stage, singing their hearts out to a cheesy song. They all wear red shirts and dance around like a bunch of idiots. She sneers at the group performing on the stage; she never understood why Finn just _had_ to be in Glee club. He had blabbered on and on about _expressing _himself and being a leader; she understood all of that, she just didn't know why he had to drag their social status down for it.

Despite her thoughts, she doesn't leave; instead, she sits down in the back of the auditorium and crosses her arms across her chest, making sure that nobody could see her in the dark room. Finn is singing the lead; Quinn can see his dopey grin as he raises his hand to the almost non-existent audience. After a few moments, a dark, hefty girl steps up, faces him, and belts out a few lines about a city boy born and raised in South Detroit. Strangely enough, she feels her limbs begin to relax at the melodic sound; the song breaks through the torturous silence surrounding her mind.

She stays until the end of the song, watches as the man steps in front of the group, and claps; she recognizes the man as her Spanish teacher and she rolls her eyes, of course, it would be him, he was always preaching about how special it was for people to express themselves through Spanish. She isn't surprised that he would take up something as horribly crippling and emotional as the Glee club.

Quinn shifts uncomfortably in her seat at the sight of the Glee club's exuberant happiness, as if they didn't mind that they were at the bottom of the social pyramid.

Since the song ended, the group was standing in the center of the auditorium doing a group hug. Quinn sniffs snobbily and stands up to leave, having no other reason to be there other than the music.

The last thing she can see of the group is Finn's massive arms reaching around to reach out for each member in the stupid little club.

This leaves her furrowing her eyebrows stubbornly as she walks towards her car.

She doesn't understand why anybody in their right sense of mind would want to be different. Being different means being out in the open and vulnerable to people who may have cruel intentions and being vulnerable means having a weak spot. She cannot possibly understand how someone could willingly subject themselves to weakness.

With a sigh, she shakes her head, dismisses the thoughts swarming her head, and gets into her car, escaping the sharp, piercing frost of the cold day. With a weary groan, she drives herself home and hopes her father is to tired from work to bother lecturing her and possibly letting her go to bed one night without having to wipe tears from her eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

The Looking Glass

Chapter 3

A/N: Hey! Thank you so much for your kind comments and reviews! I love every single one of them, really motivates me. x)

Anyway, this update is a lot longer than the other ones, if that bothers you I'm sorry, I just couldn't split it up in two parts.

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><p>The brunette sits awake in her delicate bed of feathers and leaves and listens to the soft, murmuring sounds of sleep around her. With a soft sigh, she runs her hand over her eyelids, trying to rub away the letters imprinted behind them that keep her from her elusive sleep. Every time she closes her eyes, she sees the softly engraved letters written in elegant cursive carved into the hardened rock. <em>Beyond this cave lie the Looking Glass and its Key<em>.

She can't sleep, the small, flickering flame of desire to see the world she has been dreaming of has combust into a blistering inferno of _need_. She has felt a desire for things before, it is one of her many weaknesses, to want things that others are perfectly fine having without. She has often had to stop herself from asking for a change in her dreary clothing attire, and she has craved for food that does not contain nutritional values. However, she has always been able to stop herself and pretend that she fits in with the rest of the group and pretends not to _want_ things, and after a short while, the desire trickles away until she no longer has to pretend. But this time is different, the idea has consumed her entire thought, body, and soul and now is depriving her of her much needed sleep.

_Just one night… _she thinks, _I will satisfy my curiosity and then everything will go back to normal_.

She picks herself up and stares out at the open sky, riddled with bright, twinkling stars. Her wings flutter and stretch fully as she tip-toes past the sleeping angels. She will be gone just long enough to get a taste and then she will never have to think about it again.

Every move she makes sounds loudly in her head as a call of betrayal and she has to look around to make sure that everyone is still asleep as she tip-toes away. She yearns for the moment she is far enough to not be heard, where her wings can stretch and with one, thorough beat of her wings, fly away from here.

It's a moment of relief when the sounds of soft snores and sleepy sighs drift away, the glorious dark night opening a time of silence and solitude. Rachel casts one last glance behind her shoulder before taking off, her wings stretching into their astonishing size as they hit the air's resistance.

The pink edges of her lips curl into a small smile as she flies through the night air and feels the cool breeze against her face. Her wings stretch out across the night air giddily, happy to be used once again in flight, each feather rustling as the light wind brushes through them.

It takes longer than she thought to find the structure a second time; the night projects the world she knows so well in a different light, making it look completely foreign to her. The trees that had applied shade to her in the bright light of the day now hide with the darkness of the night.

With an impatient sigh, her wings tilt, making her drop down from the sky and hover a few feet from the ground. The consistent flapping creates artificial wind and makes the tall grass bend, submissive to its power.

That's when she sees it, a slight indentation of trampled grass from where the angel had been walking earlier that day.

She follows the indentation until her wings are sore with the effort, growing heavier and slower with each flap.

She can't seem to find the will to soothe her aching wings, not until the faint outline of the deteriorating structure in the distance catches her attention; the girl's face breaks out into a grin and her wings collapse against her, resting limply at her side as she falls to her feet. Before she knows it, she is running, sprinting towards the inanimate object as if it were a lost friend.

Adrenaline pumps through the angel's fingertips, making them tremble as she runs them over the rough texture of the mud-brick building. Her heart hammers in her chest as she runs through the opened structure, wasting absolutely no time to get to the small, musty cave.

The charcoal drawings spin in front of her in a flurry of black, dancing in front of her fluttering eyelids like a movie. Her heart aches terribly as she finds the small cave with the neatly engraved letters.

The girl doesn't hesitate as she reaches the small opening and smells the stale air wafting through the diminutive cave. She falls to her knees and feels the rough, rocky bottom cut into her palms as she crawls into the cave. The cave is too small for her; although her lithe form is small enough to fit into the cave effortlessly, her wings cramp against the rocky sides. The white, sensitive feathers ruffle and scratch against the hardened rock, sending jolts of discomfort through the thin membrane of her wings, down the thick, hollow bone connected to the shoulder bones, and shuddering through her spine. Her teeth sink into the soft flesh of her bottom lip and her fingertips curl into the hardened soil; she isn't even half way through the tunnel and she already feels as if she cannot go any further.

Suddenly, and idea comes crawling up from the deep depths of her mind and she thinks back to nearly a year ago; closing her eyes, she feels the old memory slither slowly underneath her eyelids. Her elders, their constantly soft voice speaking in a gentle urgency as they talk about camouflage; a skill the angels had possessed in a weak attempt to hide from the human's rage. They had said that angels had the ability to adjust their wings enough to hide in the small space of their upper backs. The elders had encouraged the little angels to practice and the girl shudders. It had felt horrible. It was like loosing your sense of sight or smell, it left you looking blind as you stumbled about, unbalanced. How the humans did it, she does not know. With a deep breath, she concentrates on moving her wings; she lets them fold up along her back and whimpers as she feels her bones grinding against each other as they prepare room for the large, feathery mass that is her wings. They slip into the two large slits in her back and twitch against the sudden lack of space. Gritting her teeth, she waits for the final _pop_ that indicates that the transaction is complete, after a few long moments and uneasy breaths; she feels a pop in her upper back and the strange grinding feeling stops. A horrible sensation prickles across her now bare skin, rising goose bumps along her upper and lower back.

Shuddering slightly, her arms tremble as she pushes herself up and crawls through the new space. The girl focuses on the faint light at the end of the cave instead of the cramped feeling in her back, she feels as if her back is a balloon blown too large and on the brink of bursting.

Finally, the tiny walls begin to widen and alleviate as the tunnel opens up. Once through, the small angel's knees buckle, collapsing upon the floor as almost immediately her wings rupture from the two slits on her back and stretch out their agony. The brunette rests her head on the soft soil and giggles tiredly as her wings twitch, unamused.

Chocolate eyes flitter around the room, trying to take in everything as her cheek rests on the cool soil. She is currently lying in a round chamber, when she stands, her wings brush against the rocky roof.

Her breath catches in her throat when she sees_ it_.

In front of her lies a small fountain, dripping into the crystal blue water of a pond, little green plants strewn about around it, their little yellow flowers facing the pond.

With each drip of the trickling fountain, the entire pond ripples with small little waves.

The water lets off a faint glow and the girl grins as she gazes into the blue, watery depths. Inside, she sees her own illuminated reflection in the room. Her dark, ochre hair falls in naturally messy curls, cascading down to her upper back. Her bright, mahogany eyes spark with an inner fire, sparkling with delight. Crimson lips twitch into a slowly growing smile, the shallow red contrasting against her sallow skin. Her lips quirk downward sharply as the dark veins pulsing beneath her tan yet translucent skin becomes even clearer, standing pronounced against her muscle and bone. She quickly looks away in disgust; her sickly pale skin has become even more of a signature for angels than their wings.

"So this is the Looking Glass…" She murmurs softly, lightly grazing the cool pool. Her eyes trail the silver water as her hand dips closer, disturbing the peace of the calm surface, little ripples twisting and blurring the reflection of her. "So where is the Key…" Behind the trickling water of the fountain, a black, shiny rock protrudes among the uneven, rocky wall of the fountain. The protruding rock makes the water pool on its smooth surface before overflowing and trickling back down to the pond. Her fingers brush lightly against the smooth rock and it moves slightly from its place, scratching against the ill-fitted wall and making a horrendous scratching noise that makes her wince. Her eyebrows furrow in confusion and she touches the rock again, this time pulling it slightly. The smooth rock comes away from the wall with a _pop_ and the trickling water leaps down the gap that used to hold the smooth, black rock.

She turns the rock over in her hand and is surprised by how heavy it is. Interested, she feels the smoothness against her palms, feels its ragged corners contrast to its polished sides, and sees the small streaks of white within the glassy ebony. Glancing back at the forgotten fountain, she sees a faint glimmer within the gaping hole that had held the interesting stone.

The angel's pale hands search for the glimmering object in the shady darkness of the hole, her heart leaps in her chest when she feels a thin chain playing with the edges of her fingertips. Grasping it gently, she picks at slithery object and takes out a long, black chain. She holds it close to her chest and examines it; the inky chain is made up of small, smooth links that shimmer in the faint light. In the middle of the necklace, two golden wings stretch out peacefully, each golden feather glisten with an immaculate mixture of ivory and aurous. At the center of the wings, there is a small clear bead, flashing with a faint light, flickering small glimmers of silver. Her curious fingers caress the small bead and furrow her eyebrows as her fingertips find sweltering warmth within the clear bead. It's like a soft warm heart that beats and pounds inside the cold stone, held very carefully between two fingers.

Crimson lips curve into a small smile and grows into a beaming grin and she holds the key close to her chest. Quickly, she pulls the necklace over her head and securing it on her neck. The urgency she had seemingly forgotten returns in full force and she hastily jumps to her feet and dips her hand into the water. The necklace pulls on her neck, suddenly heavy as it is drawn to its portal.

The angel's heart pauses. The water no longer ripples with the disturbance of her hand. The fact creates a thrill of excitement to creep underneath her skin and flare with unimaginable brightness, setting her present desire aflame. Temporarily distracted, the angel gazes into the glassy water, cocking her head slightly, she looks into its depths. The glazed water flickers like a movie screen and for a moment, she can see the ominous sky, covered with dark clouds and misting the air with their raindrops, waiting just beyond this portal.

She giggles and forcing her hand into the pool she gazes into the serene water; watching curiously as her arm no longer disturbs the crystal-clear image reflecting in the glassy water. There were rumors that when The Looking Glass was open, the water was so still and clear, you could see straight through to the other world.

This only spurs her on and taking a deep breath, she jumps into the freezing water and feels as the piercing cold water envelops her entire body. Her limbs move sluggishly in the unnatural tranquility of the water, a burst of air rips from her throat in a fury of bubbles as she attempts to move in the frozen water. Her heart throbs in her chest and begs her to struggle for air, but her limbs quickly lose their energy, even her wings cannot break through the solid water.

Her limbs grow heavy and the task of moving becomes increasingly arduous; another pained breath escapes her throat and fills her lungs with the piercing cold water that burns her lungs. Her body slowly gives up on her, her pale hands float above her head in surrender and her legs loose force mid-stroke. Her body becomes just as still as the glassy water that holds her, much to the displeasure of her frantic heart. Her heart beats wildly in her chest as it tries to compensate for the lack of oxygen. As her mind fogs over, a dreadful thought overcomes her. This is the end, she will drown, petrified in this glassy portal like a bug fossilized in amber.

A long moment of silence passes and the brunette can do nothing but stare, completely motionless in her soon to be watery grave.

A scream begs to rip from her throat but her mouth can no longer move, so she sits still and looks into the deep blue water, hoping to see the cloudy sky at least once before she dies. It isn't fair for her to be so close to her dream and yet be so far, she's stuck before she can even see what's consumed her entire mind for the past year.

A faint glowing catches the small angel's eyes, but she ignores it and instead listens to the last frantic thumps of her adamant heart. That is when a horrible tug tears her attention down to her neck. The key around her neck burns gold and illuminates the dark depths of the still water. Another aggressive tug pulls her deeper into the portal; the golden wings of the necklace alights in a faint, yellow light while the bead is aglow with a blinding white light that flashes in the angel's deep, chocolate eyes and dazzles beneath her eyelids.

The tugging continues as the necklace quickly pulls her deeper into the looking glass in convulsive movements until she is swirling and dragged so deep into the portal that she does not know what is up and what is down. The swirling becomes so violent that she is forced to close her eyes and shut out the entire world.

Something faint falls onto the angel's cheek and moistness of it breaks the angel out of her sleep. She takes in a shaky breath, feeling as the air rushing past her raw throat scratches unpleasantly, and she groans and sputters against the uncomfortable feeling. She has never experienced a sore throat before but she can easily describe it as agony; she lets one hand untangle itself from the ground to scratch helplessly against her throat, trying to soothe the rawness of it. Her dark eyes slowly reveal themselves from beneath fluttering eyelids. The angel's eyes fall up to the world above her, and she is stilled completely. Breathe leaves her lungs in a frantic _whoosh. _

Right above the girl is an endless sky, swirling with dark, thick clouds that shade her from the ever so familiar sun. Another drop of water falls onto her cheek and the agony in her throat is forgotten as she giggles and throws up her free hand in delight.

As she blinks away the haze, she looks around at what surrounds her. She is currently laying half in the water and half out of it. Her chest is sprawled out against the rocky soil and one arm is entwined with the roots of a nearby tree in a desperate death grip. A soft cheek rubs against the rough rocks of the ground while the other is facing the open sky and the delightful rain. Her lower section is still somewhat submersed in the water and she shivers, as her fingernails sink into the gravel and she drags herself out.

As soon as her last leg leaves the water, its surface immediately turns normal and each raindrop plunders through the water, rippling and disturbing its surface with each faint drop.

With a deep breath, the angel stands up and throws her arms up, smelling the freshness of rain. Her lips stretch out into a broad grin and she bares her pearly white teeth to the sky, thrilling in the delicious feel of each individual raindrop splatter against her cheek, eyelid, and lips, everywhere. The sensation is so brilliant in fact, that the angel just has to soak it in for a while, letting it create a thin film of moist across her pale skin. Not even her dreams could prepare her for this. It is far better.

Before her mind can even think of any action to pull her through her current stupor, she is pulled again with an involuntary ripple of desire. Her bare feet scratch against the roughness of the rocks as she stumbles out of the thick forest; even the trees are different, they stretch and shake in the breeze and deep scars run along their experienced trunks. The tall weeds bend down to the force of the wind as their seeds float in the wind around her. At the end of the forest, the trees bend in a circular opening, the faint moonlight guiding her out of the forest. She feels her wings stretch blissfully as she prances out of the forest and sees the open field beside her. Everything is so foreign and yet so beautiful to her.

An old barn obstructs the open field and she runs to it.

She feels the rotten wood against her fingertips as she pushes the door open. She giggles at the dry feeling of the hay that covers the floor of the barn. The roof above her has fallen apart and she can see the ominous sky above her in small patches. A few feet away from her, there is a loft, covered in hay and her wings stretch out and throw her into the air with one strong swoop. She lay in the soft hay and her wings droop as the warmth of the hay leaves her body humming with the need for sleep. However, a stray beam of light hits her forehead and she squints at the dark sky showing through the rotting roof, and groans at the sight of the day lightening up ever so slightly, the sun will rise in a few hours and then her fellow angels _will_ know that she has been gone.

Quickly, she breaks through the exhaustion that is hazing her mind and flies through the patchy roof and into the sky. It only takes her a few moments to find the forest again and swoop down into the low hanging trees and collapses near the pond, her wings giving out on her.

Fear clenches up her body but her sudden fatigue overruns her fear and she collapses into the pond, immediately falling as still as the water.

She sinks easily this time and her necklace brightens almost immediately without the struggle of her limbs.

She throws the necklace back into its designated spot and clumsily places the smooth rock back into the hole in the fountain, cleverly hiding the necklace once again.

The next thing the small angel knows is that she is running, her depleted legs stumble and threaten to collapse as she sprints away from the building and races the rising sun.

The small angel finds herself collapsing in her bed among her sleeping angels as the suns ray's lick at the horizon. A full minute later, the brunette hears the dawning bell ringing through the air and the content sighs of the angels rising beside her.

She groans and tries to hide her head from the activity around her until she feels a soft body collapse on top of her in a giggling mess and she groans again. It is only when she feels a faint kiss against her cheek that she opens her eyes and finds her friend on top of her, her blonde hair shining in the morning light.

"Come on Grumpy head! Get up get up get up!" Her bubbly voice grates at the smaller angel's ears until she finally moves her worn out limbs and pushes herself up.

~~ X ~~

It only takes a week until she is thinking of the other world again, even worse than before. She slips off, thinking she is almost free until warm arms wrap around her limbs and a set of just as warm lips press against each cheek. The angel grumbles as she waits for the common greeting to end.

"Where are you slinking off to?" The bubbly blonde smiles happily down at her, her crystal blue eyes piercing her own with instant intensity. The brunette sighs, taking a step back from her friend's embrace and slowly wipes away the wetness her friend had unintentionally left upon her cheeks. Usually the greetings weren't supposed to be so…enthusiastic, and thus, less stickiness upon her cheeks. Her friend didn't quite get the same feeling, often leaving more than one kiss just to infuse a happier greeting. Usually the brunette loves the extra attention, but today, her mind is itching to be elsewhere.

But she remains polite and friendly, quickly whipping out her usually bright smile upon her blonde friend. "I was just about to find one of the elders; I had an impertinent question to ask for his future lessons with one of our classes." Her blonde friend furrowed her eyebrows, but nodded and smiled nonetheless. No one really has questions about lessons, it's just taught and learned, but if anyone were to question it, it would be her. At least her lie is believable. So with a warm smile and a quick departing kiss upon the cheek, the brunette angel scurries off and leaves her friend in the wake of excited, playful children hoping for another game.

She makes sure everything goes smoother than the first night she had left. The angel's legs stretch out wildly, cutting through the peaceful air in a sloppy gallop. Every time a bare foot hits the soft ground it sinks into the soil and tramples the green grass, making an uneven trail to the mud-brick building.

Her ivory wings are already folding and grinding into their designated spots within her back by the time she clamors into the room. As she runs, her gaze finds the charcoal paintings of the angel and the horror remains. Doubt prickles across her skin, enough to momentarily halt her running pace. Shaking it off isn't as quick as she would like as she crawls through the tunnel, ducking her head to wiggle through. _Maybe the elders were wrong_, she thinks, _I have only seen a glimpse of the human world but it doesn't look like the nightmare the elders have described_.

Only when the small angel is in the small chamber does she finally slow down. Fumbling slightly, she picks at the smooth rock, pulling it out of the fountain roughly. The rock is placed beside the pool as she looms over the dark glistening water. Taking a small abrasive breath, she shoves her hand into the gaping hole that is left behind and carefully draws out the necklace.

She goes through the movements carefully; each move is painstaking and slow as she slips the necklace around her neck, letting the warmth of the winged bead tingle gently against the sensitive skin of her collar. Moving diligently, the angel slips a foot into the water and watches as it stills. The water is just as cold as it was the first night but it's somehow lost its horror, leaving just a burning curiosity burning as she carefully ducks her head below the clear surface.

Within seconds, the bead floats away from the girl's collar and pulls the angel down into the water; however, this time, the girl keeps her eyes wide open as she sinks through the looking glass. The water around her swirls lightly as she descends, but strangely, the deeper she goes the water grows no darker. In fact, it seems to glisten with ribbons of light, swirling around her until it pools at last into a warm beacon at the bottom, pulling her towards it.

The girl breaks the surface, her head lifting to the sky as rugged breaths and gasps push and pull from her lips. Life revives her dull being and fills her with this vibrant world of sight, color, and smell, so unlike her home. Shakily, she crawls up from the pond and walks aimlessly through the forest. Her mind simply flickers with ideas, so unsure as to where she would go next.

Her fingers fiddle with the necklace hanging loosely around her neck as she walks; the rain dampens her dress and she lets a small shiver tremble down her wingless back. Despite the horrible cramped feeling, she is curious of how long she can keep her wings hidden. She stumbles a lot more without them, she trips at least twice and falls head first into the sloshing mud. Her wings stretch against the thin membrane of her back, begging her to release them and relieve her painful vulnerability. However, she has always been a stubborn angel, so she keeps them down and smiles triumphantly with each steady step.

She walks with her face pointed up to the sky, smiling at every raindrop that falls and kisses her face. They touch her fluttering eyelids and the warm skin of her forearm. Her arms stretch out in front of her, acting in flight as she navigates herself around this foreign world.

It's only when a rather bold raindrop falls directly onto her eye, making her yelp and shudder with sudden blindness when she realizes how far she has gone. Rubbing the stinging sensation out of her sore eye, she sees a collection of buildings in the distance. Each structure stands stationary with a looming build, hovering over some strange mechanical beasts that crouch just in front of the collection and pool in the middle. Her heart patters in surprise, freezing. A large board strikes up against her sight, fracturing her view of these structures. Letters bolted across the sign with dark inky letters, some swinging loosely, but still creating a clear message.

_McKinley High School._

~~ X~~

Quinn stands huddled with Santana under an overhang, her lips twitching downward. That is all that her lips seem to be able to form these days, an angry, disappointed scowl. Her eyes rove angrily over what now is a sloppy mess of wet paper that used to be her homework. Squinting slightly, she scowls up at the dark sky. The skin on her arms prickle with goose bumps as the frosty wind whips around her and brittles her bones. She sighs and subtly wraps her arms around her chest, cupping her elbows. She hates the rain. It's a time of forced contemplation, where small memories stagger from where she condemned them to in the deep depths of her memory. Her grave mood darkens as the memory flickers behind her fluttering eyelids.

. _A small, eight-year version of herself sits alone in front of school. Her teeth chatter violently as shivers wrack her tiny body. It is a Friday and her father was supposed to pick her up today, Quinn shuffles and holds herself tightly to tame the vicious shivers that shudder through her spine. Her feet are becoming numb as her shoes slosh around in the melting snow and her golden hair lies damp against the nape of her neck. Flecks of snow dust her ear and bite her exposed cheeks. Wherever it touches, it stings and bites like a nest of angry hornets, setting free against ever bit of her flesh. _

_When her father had finally arrived, he had mumbled out an apology while keeping a stern eye on the road. With a big wave of his hand, he ushered her impatiently into the car. The little girl shivers again, but quickly slips into the car. Warm air gusts against her cheeks and warms her neck and ears, defrosting her enough to smile happily at her father. The smile is not returned. In fact, it was never seen. The man is already rearing the engine to life as he pulls out of the parking lot. His hands are thick and strong as steel against the leather of the steering wheel, and the girl reaches over to hold one. It would warm hers instantly, but she never does. Halfway through, with her hand lifted and reaching, cool eyes flicker to her small form before carefully sliding his hands away, pulling the wheel into another direction. Away from her. _

_Her hand plops against her thigh, properly reprimanded. She didn't reach for him again. _

She sighs darkly and shuffles again, she longs for the warmth of the sun. At least when the sun was out, she could pretend to feel as warm as everyone else does. She can pretend that she doesn't feel so frozen inside. When the sun is out, she can feel her skin prickle with warmth and she would sigh in relief, because at least _something_ in her life wouldn't be frozen solid. Instead, she feels a slap of harsh _freezing _rain. She can _almost_ feel her toes, what a miracle, she thinks dryly. Quinn sighs again, her face hardening into another scowl.

Everyone is huddled under something, overhangs, umbrellas, sacrificed homework. All except one, a small girl that looks about her age standing just a few feet away from her. Her expression is sketched with curiosity and wonder. Her deep brown eyes are wide as deer's as she glances around the campus, stepping curiously across its cement floor in endless enjoyment. A dazzling smile stretches widely across her ruby lips.

"What the hell is that girl wearing?" Santana's skeptic voice draws Quinn out of her dream-like stare, blinking rapidly; she glances over to her friend before looking back at the girl. The girl's white dress is completely soaked through and clings tightly to the girl's body, its white cloth almost transparent.

"Yeah…" Her voice is distant as she answers, her hazel eyes dipping further down the dress. Her eyes darken as they drop from the smooth stomach hiding beneath the nearly see through dress to the long tawny muscles, quivering underneath the skin of her legs. A small shiver shoots up her spine and although she convinces herself that the cold rain is the culprit, she cannot explain the warmth stretching across her shivering limbs and tinting her pale cheeks in a rosy red. Pink lips curve into a small smile and she turns back to Santana. "I think she would be perfect for the Cheerios."

Staring is not a problem as long as there is a cause, this cause being a girl who is somewhat acceptable as a contestant for the Cheerios squad, she tells herself as her gaze drifts back to the giddy girl in the rain.

"What? You mean the hobbit dressed in the white drape?" Santana mutters, smirking wryly.

"Well, we can't have a trio with only two people!" Quinn bites out impatiently, "do you know how stupid I look stalking down these halls with only one girl beside me? There's no symmetry!" Santana eyes her friend suspiciously and faintly wonders if she knows how crazy she sounds but shrugs, she could care less about symmetry, but she wouldn't mind someone else to take the brunt of the crazy that is Quinn Fabray.

"Fine" Santana sighs lazily, inspecting her nails while Quinn smirks triumphantly as her hazel eyes sparkle. "So are you going to go talk to her or just stand there and smile?"

"No, not yet"

It was too crowded, if she came up to the girl now, she would practically have to yell for the girl to hear her and if she had to yell to get the girl's attention, it would imply that Quinn is desperate. However, it couldn't be empty because the girl had to see all of the other options around her and if it was vacant, it would seem that being apart of the Cheerios was unimportant and that was obviously untrue.

Quinn smirks and tilts her head up, placing her hands on her hips as the rain ceased and the clouds above her began to disperse. It would only be a matter of time before some students thought it would be safe to leave their crowded sanctuaries and begin to disperse along with the dark clouds.

Quinn and Santana move in synchronized steps, hands on their hips, heads held up high, they were the image of popularity. Students separated as they walked by, their eyes downcast and silent, knowing that one misstep could lead them to a miserable life in this school. She walks up to the small girl, making sure that Santana's shoes aligned perfectly well with her own. The girl faces away from them, her shiny dark hair glimmering from the soft drizzle. Quinn clears her throat, irritated that the new girl hadn't immediately noticed her presence. But she lets it go as the girl turned around and gave her a dazzling smile, she was a new girl after all.

Quinn's gaze drags over the girl's appearance and stops at those large, ebony orbs. Quinn falters momentarily at the sight of her own reflection gleaming back at her in the deep glassy eyes of the new girl; cold and calculated hazel eyes, pink lips turned up slightly at the corner. Her long, golden hair slicks back painfully tight into a controlled ponytail.

She can see a small group of people stop and watch in her peripheral vision and starts to smirk; it's time.

"I'm Quinn and this is Santana -" She never gets a chance to finish that sentence, because in that exact moment, the girl smiles brilliantly and practically lunges closer to her.

Instantly Quinn feels suffocated as this girl penetrates her personal bubble.

No, not a bubble, a wall and this girl is bulldozing through it. Quinn lets out a strangled breath, her eyes freeze as they catch the girl quickly leaning up and places warm parted lips against her flushed cheek.

Quinn is frozen.

Her heart is hammering in her chest as her brain struggles to work fast enough to process what is happening.

It is only until the faint sound of snickering of students perturb her hazy mind, does she snap out of it. Her eyes turn to steel, frosting over in cold ice. All the warmth leaves her as a flicker of the girl's white dress flashes in the corner of her eye as she walks away towards Santana.

Said girl appears to be paralyzed, a predatory smirk frozen onto her lips in fear as the small brunette faces her. Her heart sputters strangely and does a bizarre mixture of fluttering and sinking as a flash of rage shoots through her veins. Quinn's hands grasp out and clutches at the girl's white dress, yanking her back aggressively.

The girl's sparkling eyes glance at her but her smile falters as Quinn grits her teeth, her jaw clenching and unclenching. Boys and girls have started to formulate in a small group around the scene, and Quinn's heart picks up as sweat begins to bead at her forehead despite the freezing temperature. She has never thought herself as claustrophobic, but now she's starting to feel like that may just be a possibility. It's like the student's are crashing in on her, murmuring with their hissing whispers as their eyes pierce into her. Now, more than ever, she needs space.

"You can't just _touch _people like that" She spits out vehemently. The brunette stops smiling immediately, flinching in Quinn's grasp as if she had been slapped. Quinn snarls, but let's go of the flimsy white dress as actual fear seems to formulate in the girl's chocolate eyes. She hisses softly, trying to catch a hold of her whirling mind, but it is only pushing her further into her rage as small crowds of boys begin to point at them and whistle.

"I-I'm so sorry…I was only try-trying to be polite." The girl murmurs, her eyes downcast and her lips turn downwards into a small frown. It looks so unnatural on her pink lips, as if she has never truly frowned before in her life.

Quinn glances at her friend, grimaces when she sees that Santana has gotten over her shock, and is now snickering, her lips snarled into a smirk as cold eyes glance inbetween Quinn and this cretin. Quinn smolders, turning to glance at all the students laughing. Laughing at her. Her face turns a shade darker as her heart starts to twist a little, like small pins and needles poking and probing her slowly sinking heart. Humiliated, she looks over to the girl and sneers because this is all _her _fault.

The girl just stands there, acting all innocent, as if she didn't purposively embarrass the head Cheerio in front of the entire school. Girls do _not kiss_ other girls. Her father's voice shouts in her mind and another reciting of the bible is whirling in her mind, sending a course of pure rage pulsing through her veins. But, despite herself, the thought creates a small flutter in her wild beating heart.

"You have made enemies with the wrong people, freak" Her mouth spews out words, trying to gain the upper hand of the situation. Nevertheless, she feels trapped underneath it, caught under the confused chocolate eyes below her. Pulling Santana away with her, she tugs her friend's arm forcefully. She shoots hateful glares at everyone and they immediately stop their laughing and sit still once again.

~~ X ~~

The angel remains still for a long minute, trying to think back to what she did wrong. The two girls had walked up to her, smiling at her and the next moment she was getting pushed away. Her frown deepens as she remembers the blonde girl's expression; at first, those hazel orbs were calm, tinged with interest. They had seemed pretty at the time, with light filtering through them, alighting a bright golden tinge among the dim green. They were beautiful even. Then things just swerved out of control. She was just trying to be polite, but the girl had gone rigid and her eyes had swirled with a multitude of emotions that somehow turned somewhat fearful, behind all that hate. Quickly, she runs through her mind to all of the lessons her elders had told her; furrowing her eyebrows, she runs through the list in her mind and cannot find a single thing she did wrong. The elder's hushed voice murmurs in her mind on how to greet somebody properly.

When an angel meets up with another, it is considered polite to kiss the other on the cheek to show gratitude for their presence and intimacy, whether they are strangers or friends.

She cannot find any flaw in the way she acted; subtly, she rolls her shoulders to check that her wings were still in fact hidden from plain sight. Silently, she mulls over their entire interaction. The small brunette had been standing there, minding her own business when the two girls walk over to her. By the way the two girls were standing, she could tell that they were very important, everyone around them seem to become motionless in their presence as they stood with their heads held up high.

She remembers how thrilled she had felt, her heart thrumming excitedly at seeing _humans_ walk close to her, as if she were one of them. The blonde had called herself…what was it? Quinn…and the darker girl was Santana. She remembers suppressing a happy giggle at hearing their names, feeling giddy at seeing another odd antic of the humans. Quinn had smiled at her; those pink lips stretching back to reveal perfect white teeth. She had stared deeply into the girl's eyes, hazel.

Striking hazel eyes, she has never seen eyes quite like Quinn's before and not just because golden specks were strewn about within those shining ochre orbs. There was something cryptic about those eyes, something misleading and mysterious. They sparkled like diamonds with her dazzling smile but when she had gotten closer, she could see the ice encrusted within them. Hiding behind those sparkling eyes there was a deep-set misery. Then it was gone, all of it, the smile and the kindness were burned up in the fury of her anger, flooding through her crimson cheeks and bitter words.

The angel sighs; Quinn is a conundrum. That much she was certain of.

All of her thought was cut off when a shadow cast across her face, with a blank blink she looks up to see a tall boy looking down at her with a dopey smile. The boy scuffs the cement with his shoes, one hand lies on top of his head, his fingers thrumming on his dark hair while his other hand is stuffed into his light jeans. For a brief moment, the angel considers kissing his cheek but after Quinn's reaction, she decides against it. Her fingers fidget and pull at the light texture of her dress nervously. She has no idea what to do now, a small blush flushes her cheeks as she looks down at herself, for the first time in her life, she feels ashamed of her appearance. Her light dress is filthy with mud stains and completely inappropriate next to all these people clad in warm jackets and jeans. Her feet ache from the sharper rocks from this world, she had no idea things would be so sharp here. She stares at the boy's shoes, wanting nothing more than to just hide behind the comfort of her wings.

"My name is Finn," The boy coughs, making the angel's crestfallen gaze meet the boy's eyes. His hands are outstretched and the angel frowns at it, her shoulders slump helplessly, what is she supposed to do with this? She smiles at him, hoping that the gesture would pacify him. Her heart sinks, overwhelmed, she has wanted nothing more than to be here but now that she is, she is completely unprepared. She has no idea how to interact with these people; it would only be a matter of time before she is rejected completely. What would she do then? Go back to her own world again? Was she supposed to pretend that none of this has happened? Her eyes begin to feel misty and she wipes at them, confused when liquid comes away with her fingertips. Her lips quiver at the feeling, just another thing to be confused over.

"What's your name?" the hopeful tint in Finn's voice has become confused and the angel feels him shuffle closer to her.

Name…She doesn't have a name…none of the angels have names. The angel looks at Finn hopelessly and remains silent. She sits down on the cold cement and feels a shiver wrack her body as she waits for his kind, brown eyes to flash with anger just as Quinn's had and push her away.

Instead, he grins, balling his hand into a fist and lightly bumps her shoulder. She watches this transaction blankly, wondering faintly why such a vulgar action of violence was making him smile. Was it meant to be endearing?

"I see, this is a game, you want me to guess your name?" Finn's eyes shine, apparently happy to have figured out why she was so silent. She just smiles weakly at him again, unable to tell him anything different. He falls down beside her and wraps an arm around her bare shoulders. Her lips quirk up as warmth seeps through to her skin. "Okay, how about…Gretchen." The angel frowns at the name and shakes her head violently. Finn laughs, his deep voice rumbling through his chest and she lies her head on her shoulder, mostly out of curiosity and feels his laughter reverberate through her. "What about Kristen?" Her eyebrows furrow and she mulls it over silently, it wasn't a bad name, but it just didn't fit. "Sara?" Another shake. "Dona?" Really? Were all human names like this? "Uh…Ariel?" Rachel sighs, shaking her head again. "Oh…that would have been cool; I guess you aren't a mermaid then."

Chocolate eyes jump up to meet the boy's muddy brown gaze and she frowns at the absurd sentence…A mermaid? What is wrong with these people? "How about Rachel?"

The angel purses her lips at the name and says it in her mind, her lips silently pronounce the name, and a small smile pulls at her lips once again. It fits her perfectly. She nods enthusiastically and the boy grins at her, taking her small hand up in his massive paws and shaking it firmly. "Nice to meet you Rachel"

"Nice to meet you Finn" Rachel finally speaks up, smiling faintly at the boy in front of her. Maybe things aren't as hopeless as they seemed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi! Sorry for the delay in posting, I went on a week vacation and had no way of writing. Also, in exciting news, I have a poster being made, not by me because I have absolutely no skill in that matter, but it will be made somewhat soon by a friend and that will be up when I get it and or figure out how to put it on my profile. **

**Anyway, thank you all for your kind reviews, for all of you reviewing and for all of you not reviewing thank you for reading :)**

**I'm not sure when the next update will be, it may be soon or a little away. Depending on how I spend the rest of my Summer Vacation.. Okay...soo...Enjoy!**

**Livejournal is being crazy so my update to LJ will be suspended to whenever the site starts working again.**

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><p>Chapter 4<p>

Finn blinks, sitting blankly in his seat as he stares at his teacher. Mr. Books is clearing his throat again. _Wait that is his name, right? Mr. Books? Yeah...something like that._

Finn shrugs, yawning slowly as his body slumps into his chair. The rough skin of his palm scratches against his cheek as he leans into it again, returning his blank stare to the white board. This is just so _boring. _

Huffing, Finn's eyes trail away from his history teacher, flickering around to find something that doesn't hurt his eyes so much. Puck is snoring softly, his head is rocking back against the desk behind him as drool drips from the corner of his mouth. The teacher just continues his soft mumbling lecture that seems to sound more like an old car's engine dying and reviving repeatedly as the time goes by.

Finn grins dopily, but blinks when a flicker of movement catches his eyes.

Glancing to his left, he brightens into a smirk as his eyes train onto his busy girlfriend. Quinn's intense hazel eyes focused onto the paper in front of her, her pen scribbling furiously. Quinn's pearly white teeth are set against her lower lip, biting tenderly into the skin. Finn sighs heavily, his girlfriend truly is gorgeous.

Golden tendrils of hair ties bounds of curls into a tight ponytail as perfectly manicured nails occasionally thrum against the soft pale skin of her forearm. Finn smiles softly as he watched his girlfriend work curiously. He's never seen Quinn so concentrated on a particular task, her head cocked as her calculated eyes inspect her paper for mistakes. But for a moment, Finn swears he saw them soften, creamy hazel eyes becoming warm and sweet.

As if in a trance, Finn leans forward, his rough palm sliding against the desk to where Quinn's arm rests, caressing the skin gently. Soft hazel eyes move lethargically from where they had been resting on her paper to glance at him.

His heart jumps excitedly at seeing his girlfriend's dark eyes void of any malice or anger. In fact, they look soft and inviting. He feels like a puppy about to get attention from his girlfriend…err…that didn't make much sense…but anyway he lets a fond smile curl his lips and strokes her arm again, expecting some returning affection.

Almost instantly, Quinn's hazel eyes harden and thin lips twist to form a pinched frown. Finn heaves a sigh and removes his hand, shifting uncomfortably on his seat. It's really unfair, his beautiful, _gorgeous_ girlfriend hates to be touched. This is a double downside for Finn. Quinn shifts away, moving her body to cover whatever it is that she is writing.

Dark eyebrows rise as Finn's curiosity is piqued; Quinn has never shown that much interest in taking notes, let alone making sure her notes were kept away from others. Her shoulders relax again as she focuses back onto her paper and Finn tilts his head subtly.

He doesn't see any notes on her paper, actually, he wouldn't be surprised if she hadn't listened to a single word the teacher has said. Then again…he doubts anyone in this class has heard a single word the teacher has said. Instead, there are darkly sketched marks from her pen, stretching into familiar forms. The inky marks form a slim shape of a girl, a small dark haired girl with a brilliant smile. Finn cocks his head to the side to look closer and notices something familiar about her.

A white shaded dress is drenched from the sketched out rain and clings tightly to the sketching's body. Slender hands tangle in tousled brown hair, and with long strokes of Quinn's pen, she creates the budding lashes that cover the girl's smoldering dark eyes. Carefully hesitant hand's give the sketching more defined features, pronouncing the lower lip, cheekbones, and at last, her jaw.

"Hey that looks like Rachel!" His voice is a little too loud and he smiles, remembering the strange girl he had met the other day.

A few students spin around to look at them, the teacher's face burns a bright red and begins to waddle over to where they sit. Quinn has become completely still, looking more of a statue than anything else. Her pen seems to have cracked under pressure as white knuckles tighten around it.

Her usually pale completion turns a deep crimson red as she turns to meet Finn's eyes, her jaw clenching tight and burning angry eyes.

_Oops…That's not good…_He thinks dully and tries to make up for it. "I never knew you were such a good drawer! It looks exactly like her"

This surprisingly does not help at all.

Actually, it makes things worse as a few students lean over, trying to catch a glimpse of her drawing.

Quinn scowls deeply and curses under her breath as she quickly scratches over the beautiful drawing. With uneasy marks, the beautiful girl's nose is replaced with a large lumpy blob, covered with dark hairs and warts. Slender nimble fingers look bloated and scratched out, creating thick ugly man hands. With quick scratches, Quinn moves down the girl's body, recreating the slim form, which had been perfectly sketched in his opinion, into a contorted fat figure. All before the teacher's wary eyes reach her. The teacher's eyebrows knit together as he rips the paper from her notebook, eliciting an unseen glare from Quinn; but when he looks closer, his face relaxes and he shrugs, putting the paper back down, just happy that he wasn't the victim of Quinn's drawings today.

Quinn tears the paper up the moment its thin, flimsy material hits the desk and in turn, shredding the students' interest as they turn back towards the front of the class.

Finn smiles at hearing the girl sigh in relief and goes back to stroking her arm gently, hoping that if he comforted her enough, he would get lucky tonight.

Hazel eyes pierce him with an angry glare and he droops gloomily, retracting his hand slowly and sliding it back to where it had rest at the beginning; there would be no such thing as luck for him tonight. He sighs softly and glares at the front of the classroom as his good mood is tarnished, but that's nothing new.

* * *

><p>~~ X ~~<p>

The blonde angel sits cross-legged in the grass, her deep blue eyes staring up at the crystal-blue sky as the sun tickles her face with warmth. With a soft exhale, she falls back into the grass, enjoying the warmth of another day. Stretching her lean form, her head catches the sight of her friend, treading through the long grass with her hands curled lightly around the fabric of her dress, hitching it up to avoid the stains from grass.

The usually intense focused eyes look miles away as they drift to the ground, staring blankly with each venturing step forward. The blonde smiles gently, quickly getting to her knees as her wings flatten against her back, her entire body hidden in the untamed grass. The girl grins ecstatically, crawling slowly towards her friend with carefully calculated steps. The grass hardly rustles as she moves forward, closer to her unexpecting friend. Her wings silence any amount of sound that is created from the wild, untamed grass.

Suppressing a small giggle, she leaps, her wings flapping furiously as she soars. With a victorious roar, she has pounced on top of her frantic friend, a stream of terrified sounds falling from her lips. With a swift movement, the angel gathers her friends flailing arms, pinning her down, placing slobbery kisses on the girl's cheeks.

After a moment, the girl beneath her falls completely motionless, almost stiff as her blonde companion nuzzles her cheeks into the crook of the girl's neck, smiling when a deep chuckle rumbles in the girl's throat.

"I forgot where I was for a moment…" The girl's voice makes her smile falter, looking up; she catches her friend's wide delightful eyes, and pushes away the weak hesitance in her voice.

She had seen her friend stumbling back to her bed last night, her eyes half closed and looking exhausted. This hasn't been the first time she has looked around and found her friend not there, only to find her stumbling back, exhausted that night. She doesn't know where her friend goes but she doesn't like that it is leaving her so tired.

"Forget?" She murmurs, giggling, "How could you forget where you live?" She smiles brilliantly at her friend, playing dumb.

The girl bites her lip, a small smile flitting to her lips while her wings stretch out happily.

"Can I tell you a secret?" The blonde grins and leans in close to her friend, her heart jumping happily at being trusted with a secret. Agile fingertips twist in her smooth, blonde hair and force her ear closer to those ruby lips. "I've been to the human world" the words are spoken in a hushed whisper, the words as clear as rain but cloudy with its meaning.

Furrowing her eyebrows, the angel looks back to her friend's wide smile; pulling a conversation between them to the front of her mind.

"It's marvelous. There are so many things to tell you. I saw rain! Rain, oh it was just wonderful. The people there are so interesting, although, their culture is definitely a confusing one. Oh they ride in large metal beasts called cars, and each person has an individual name!" Her friend's eyes brighten, her smile becoming even brighter. "They even named me!" The girl's voice is suddenly loud and the blonde is pushed off. Her friend sits up, gathering her dress around her legs as she kneels beside her friend.

Then her friend does something odd, she sticks out her hand vertically into the air as if inserting it into some invisible object.

The blonde angel cocks her head in wonderment, staring blankly at her friend's confident hand. With a giggle, her friend takes her own hand and shakes it wildly. "My name is Rachel!"

The blonde furrows her eyebrows, appraising her friend lightly. Rachel?

"I…don't get it," She says unsurely, looking between their clasped hands and her friend's wild smile. The brunette giggles riotously, her smile growing impossibly wider

"I didn't understand it at first either, I thought it was strange that they wanted to name me but…I don't know, I like it…It makes me feel distinguished." The girl doesn't know what distinguished means but…Rachel…sits up straighter at the word so she lets herself smile through her confusion. "Do you want me to name you?" The blonde shrugs happily, feeling carefree again at seeing her friend at ease.

They sit still for a long moment as Rachel's eyebrows knit together, a small frown creasing at her lips.

"Is that it? Am I named now?" The girl guesses, not entirely sure how the process happened. Rachel glances at her and frowns

"I'm still new at this…I only know six names and none of them really fit you…Do you like Ariel?" The girl furrows her eyebrows and giggles at the strange word; Rachel shakes her head with a small smile. "I didn't think so"

Rachel's wings stretch happily for a moment, her eyes fluttering closed as a look of concentration passes through her face. Feathers among her wings twitch as the juncture against her back moves in impatience. Finally, Rachel huffs, "Oh, I don't know, but I will find a name for you soon!" Crossing her arms, Rachel huffs again.

The blonde just snuggles closer to her friend, glad just to be able to be close to her again. Rachel and her friend share a light giggle as the blonde pushes her back down to the grass, snuggling into her slim form. They allow minutes, or maybe even hours pass by with warmth seeping into their skin.

But eventually, as if a cloud passed across the sun, Rachel grows colder. Her body stiffens as she slowly moves away from her friend.

"I have to go…" She murmurs gently "Do you want to come with me?" The girl's piercing blue eyes widen at the thought of leaving. Her messy blonde curls whip back and forth; as she shakes her head violently, nimble fingers fidgeting in her lap.

"No, this is my home." This is always her reply and she feels a small pang of guilt when she hears her friend sigh gently, her long dark hair covering her face as her head dips with disappointment.

"Okay" Rachel replies just as gently and the warmth quickly leaves the blonde as her friend quietly picks herself off the ground. The blonde watches her friend go silently, her wings stretching in the warmth of the sun and highlighting her retreating figure.

Rachel has always been the adventurous one; the brunette would explore around their small world, looking into hobbled logs and underneath rocks when there was nothing more to explore. The girl smiles as a fond memory of the girl exploring the forest floor and examining the little worms squirming through the soft soil flashes across her mind.

She has always been the girl's giddy shadow, happy to follow the girl wherever she wanted to go as long as their safety was promised. Now, she just wishes she could have the same spirit, to be able to cross through to another unknown world, and follow her friend like she used to do.

The girl watches Rachel walk away from her slowly, a small frown working its way across her pink lips, until she sees the girl turn and for a wonderful moment, she perks up, thinking the girl is going to run back to her and promise that she will never leave the safety of their home again. Instead, Rachel turns to her, those dark doe eyes glisten happily and a dazzling smile paints its way across the girl's crimson lips.

"I'll bring you back something!" She yells and the blonde smiles softly at her friend as she spins around. She watches blissfully as her friend's ivory wings stretch out to their full length and flap heavily, bringing the girl into the air and further away from the blonde.

* * *

><p>~~ X ~~<p>

Rachel trudges through the rocks and away from the Looking Glass, the cool wind drying her hair while her wings shakes violently, flinging droplets of water of like a dog shaking water from its fur. She walks quickly, passing through the forest, her eyes gliding past the quickly familiarizing scenes of the human world. She walks past the rotting barn and smiles gently, letting her fingertips brush against the rough exterior lightly.

This would be a good sleeping place, going between worlds has proved to be absolutely exhausting, and it wouldn't hurt to stay here in this barn some days.

Humming softly she walks through the barn, her hands stretching out to touch the rotted walls on either side of her. Her mood always brightens when she is in this world. She admits, she had been a little disappointed seeing that her dearest friend couldn't join her, couldn't see the absolute beauty in this world. But being here, she cannot help but grin happily, she will get her friend to understand someday.

She walks quietly until she reaches the sign hanging in front of the school. It's only when she steps into the school grounds does she remember her wings. With a small groan, she folds her wings against her back, wincing against the grinding sensation as her wings grudgingly hide themselves. She waits until that annoying pop until she finally stumbles into the school campus; she sees that people are huddled around in small groups just like yesterday. A few people eye her and she feels that same pang of shame at her stained clothing.

The first boy to break out of the crowd is Finn, behind him, a tanned boy frowns gently and Rachel looks at him oddly, finding his hair rather curious; she has never seen a boy with a mostly shaved head, only a strip of black hair running down the middle of his skull. The boy looks her up and down, a small smirk crawling up his lips before winking and turning away. Rachel beams, thinking that she has already made progress towards interacting correctly towards people.

Finn's bear-like hands are waving in front of Rachel's eyes and she blinks rapidly and beams up at the boy. His eyebrows furrow in irritation and he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"Ignore Puck, he'll wink at everything that moves," He mumbles petulantly

"Puck?" She murmurs, seriously, what is with these names? Finn waves his hand as if to dismiss the subject.

"Noah Puckerman, forget it, he's not important" Rachel nods, wary of his tone and after a moment the boy's dopey smile is back.

As they sit down, she catches a pair of hazel eyes glaring their way. Leaning against the wall, the two girls from yesterday layback, eyeing the people buzzing around them she cannot help but think of the lions she has heard about in the storybooks.

Seemingly calm and lethargic, but keep sharp, keen eyes on their prey, always ready to pounce. Rachel thinks back to what they had called themselves…Quinn and Santana. Quinn is staring at them, anger glinting in her gold-tinted eyes as they flash between her to Finn.

Rachel perks up and beams at the girl, stirring up as much enthusiasm into her smile as possible, hoping that the cryptic girl would no longer be cross with her. Dark hazel eyes narrow, and very slightly, her lip curls, forming a snarl. Taking that as a smile, Rachel smiles wider and waves, happy to know that she is improving in greeting people.

Quinn's odd smile doesn't last long, she blinks, her cheeks reddening slightly and turns away; Rachel sighs, not liking the idea that anybody dislikes her, especially this girl, shrugging half-heartedly and turning back to Finn.

Finn has something in his hands and it attracts her eyes instantly, leaning in close, she sees a strange rectangular thing with a circular middle. Finn is turning a knob at the side of the circle and Rachel watches as two small black objects swirl around the circle, passing numbers and small tick marks as they spin around.

Her hands fumble around until they find the boy's hands and quickly she plucks the shiny object out of his hands. The pad of her finger gently strokes against the glass of the object and she watches as the small black hands tick around the circle of numbers. Each movements makes a small _ticking_ sound and her eyes grow wide, refusing to blink as she stares at the object, wanting to memorize every little detail.

The sound of laughter makes her eyes rip from the object and she sees Finn scratching his head, his face scrunched up slightly in a mixture of laughter and confusion.

"You really like my watch?" Rachel blinks blankly at the boy, her lips quirking up slightly. _A watch; _she glances back to the object in her hands and smiles. "Hey, if you like it that much you can keep it. My friend gave it to me but I can't figure out how to put it to the right time." She grins at the boy and holds the watch close to her heart, feeling as each beat of her heart echoes the faint _tick_ of the watch.

"Thank you, but won't you need it? Something like this must be a rare object to find!" Finn frowns at her words and scratches his head.

"Yeah…I guess so, I mean my phone tells time so it doesn't really matter to me" He mumbles, his muddy brown gaze flicking to his watch and back her. Rachel stares at Finn in wonderment

"What's a phone?"

* * *

><p>Rachel is a ball of excitement.<p>

Finn has a tight grasp on her hand as he leads her around the school. He had called it a "tour" so that she wouldn't be confused as to where to go when she had to attend her classes. Wide chocolate eyes jump around sporadically, attempting to soak in every small detail of the school.

The hallways squeak as the students walk by her in those strange shoes of theirs, she counts her steps and is giddy to know that after every ten steps, there is a small glass exhibit full of something called "Cheerleading Trophies".

Almost every jock is holding a Styrofoam cup full of something called slushies; the key identifier for these jocks are the red and white Letterman jackets that are identical to Finn's jacket.

Rachel can't even bring herself to complain about the cramp forming in her wrist by Finn's energetic grasp, she is far too distracted by everything around her.

She is so distracted in fact, that she doesn't notice when the boy suddenly stops moving, she walks straight into the boy's stiff form and grunts as her head collides into him.

The sudden stop in speed makes her loose her balance and she stumbles to the ground, or at least, she would have stumbled to the ground if Finn hadn't been holding her hand so tightly, so instead she just hangs in mid air and grits her teeth against the sudden urge to let her wings fly out. He turns around, throws her a sympathetic smile, dips down, slowly descending her to the ground, and drops her hand. Immediately, she rolls her wrists around at the new freedom and rolls out the small cramps that send spasms into her hand.

Looking up at the boy, she smiles expectantly, wondering what he will show her next.

Instead, he takes a step back and points to the door beside him. Dark eyebrows knit together and she scrambles up, only stumbling slightly, and clamors her way towards the door.

Looking in, she sees about twenty students sitting in chairs with wooden planks around them. A few of them spin around in their chairs and chatter to the student beside them while a man stands in the front of the room, his hands shoved into his pocket and a bored expression painted onto his haggard face.

With a shrug, she grasps at the doorknob and turns it gently, but Finn's hands stop her from opening it as they consume her tiny hands in their massive claws.

"Uh…No this is my class, you go to your class now and you meet me here after school" She is about to ask what these classes were when a deep ringing reverberates through the building and thunders through her mind. Her mind immediately flies to the caliginosity bell and she frowns.

"It couldn't possibly be night time already?"

"What? No, this is my class and now I am late." He gently pries her fingers off the door and pulls her off to the side. His hand rests at the base of his neck and his eyes squint slightly as he looks at her. "You're kind of weird aren't you?" Rachel's head dips in shame, her cheeks tinting a deep crimson color and she shrugs faintly, her eyes glued to the floor.

A hand comes down onto messy brown curls as he pats her head gently. "It's okay, I kind of like it." Chocolate eyes flash up just in enough time to find the boy walking into his classroom.

She beams for an entire minute. _I have befriended a human!_ She squeals excitedly but stops when she realizes that she has no classes. Her back finds the cool wall and she slides down and rests on the floor, her bare legs splayed out in front of her as she waits.

Rachel's head snaps up from where it had rested, hanging lowly in half-sleep as another bell thunders through the school. Wiping her eyes, she blinks blearily and stumbles up, using the wall for support, and watches as a mass of students pour out of the classroom.

Finn walks out, rubbing his blurry eyes, making Rachel wonder if he was doing the exact same thing she was doing just a minute ago. "How was your class?" He asks faintly, his voice still strangled with sleep.

"It was absolutely spectacular" The lie falls flat on her lips, so she grins wildly, hoping her enthusiasm makes up for the lack of truth. Finn just blinks again and grabs her hand, dragging her away with him.

"I wanna show you something"

~~ X ~~

Santana sits underneath the bleachers and listens to the faint sounds of the world whizzing around her. Her fingertips gently grasp the bud of a smoking cigarette, lifting it up and sucking in the burning smoke.

It uncoils slowly from between her lips, fogging out into an indistinguishable shape of black smoke. Sighing, Santana curls her lips, curling the cigarette in her hand and pressing the burning paper against her fingertips.

Instantly a sweet stinging sensation shoots up her hand, prickling across her bones. In a pained gasp, Santana drops the cigarette, cursing the burn mark it made.

She knows its stupid to smoke, she has heard all of the campaigns against it and she knows that it's stupid to skip school and sit around burning her fingertips. Santana winces faintly and stares at her crisped fingertips, the raised red skin blaring angrily at her. She knows it's stupid, but she can't seem to find the will to stop.

A part of her knows that she does it for attention…Or an attempt for attention. She sighs again, knowing deep down that no matter how badly she was to hurt herself, nobody would even notice.

Another part of her just wants to feel _something,_ she spends half of her time hiding her every emotion as to not appear weak and the other half trying to find them again.

Staring at the burning cigarette in her hands, she almost laughs, it's almost funny how this all began. On the first day of Freshman year at high school, she had found a pack of cigarettes in her mother's purse.

She had only grabbed it to see what her mother would do if she were caught. She felt giddy knowing that her mother would see her, and act on the situation to try to reprimand her. She would probably be grounded or punished in some way, but it would at least be for her protection.

With a glance to her mother, she had slid into the car, waiting patiently for it to rear to life and start the drive to school.

Very slowly, Santana pulled out her cigarette, putting it to her lips and lighting the end. She froze, glancing at her mother through the window of her house; if her mother glanced outside, she would see her, with a small cough she slowly releasing the burning puff of smoke. It burned in her lungs and fogged up her brain, but with watery eyes, she awaited what her mother would say.

Seconds turned into minutes and she had yet to enjoy a single puff of the burning smoke, still sitting in the car to ride to school.

When she got out, she dropped the cigarette and crushed it with her heel, storming away angrily to walk to school.

Her mother never noticed; she hadn't even look at her.

Santana snarls, dropping another cigarette into the dust, flicking off the ashes from her fingertips. Her muscles ached at just that simple movement.

Cheerios practice has become more brutal than usual. Every muscle in her hurts, and every morning she feels as if she was hit by a bus the day prior. Santana curses under her breath for her coach being insane and rubs at a new kink in her neck.

Her limbs move lethargically as she gets up from her crumpled position under the bleachers and makes her way over to her car. She makes it halfway to her destination when she sees Quinn walking stiffly towards the auditorium. Sighing heavily, Santana looks longingly towards the direction of her car and back towards Quinn's mysterious retreating figure.

Cursing under her breath, Santana lurks behind Quinn angrily; her curiosity has always gotten the best of her. Quinn's hands clench tightly as she walks, her posture painfully tight as she trudges forward, but as she reaches the auditorium, something about her softens.

Quinn's shoulders slump slightly and she lowers her head. No one would have noticed these slight increments of movement, but Santana has known her practically since birth, and far too long after that.

Quinn's hand drops from where it had rested on her hip and gently opens the auditorium door. Santana stays back, lurking slowly behind her, just lagging behind by seconds. She watches scornfully as the other girl settles herself down in the back couple of rows.

_Quinn freaking Fabray comes here to listen to a stupid show choir._

It's almost funny to think how they became friends. They don't have any of the same interests. Quinn is queen of the celibacy club; Santana has slept around with the entire school. Quinn's parents are over protective control freaks, Santana's parents barely recognize her existence. Quinn sits here, listening to show tunes, Santana really wishes she had just abandoned her curiosity and headed towards her car.

The lights in the room dim and the small group on the stage stop their annual holding hands session, or whatever they do, and look over to the end of the stage. Finn walks onto the stage, dragging that strange dwarf in a drape with him.

Quinn immediately stiffens and Santana lets an eyebrow raise, her interest piqued. Quietly, she settles herself a row behind Quinn's seat and leans back, crossing her arms over her chest, preparing for a good show.

The girl on stage looks a little too ecstatic to be standing in front of the social scum club, the girl stands in the middle of the stage, her hands wringing nervously as she scuttles around the group excitedly, like a little puppy.

"Jeez, don't wet yourself, it's just the Glee Club" She mutters quietly but curses and sinks down low into her seat, hoping that the darkness in the room will cover her as Quinn whips her head back.

Hazel eyes gleam in the dark room, swirling with paranoia and Santana hurts her wounded neck even further, trying to keep herself hidden from her "best friend".

Eventually, Quinn turns back and Santana lets out a silent breath and readjusts herself in the seat. When she looks back to the stage, the girl is holding the microphone as if it could cure cancer, her already wide smile somehow growing wider as her dark eyes rove over the small thing. Santana has to place her hand over her mouth to keep a scoff from coming out.

"Hello! Oh!" The girl jumps as her voice echoes through the room and pierces Santana's ears. The brunette looks around warily and giggles while the Glee club wears an identical expression of doubt. "Helloooo" She murmurs her voice an octave lower as she tests out the microphone. Santana cocks her head to the side as the girl's sparkling eyes widen and an ecstatic grin lightens her face. She then proceeded to make odd formations of sound, lowering and highering her voice into the microphone. It was only until Mr. Schue cleared his throat was she startled from her revere.

"Oh! My name is Rachel" The teacher's fake laughter can be heard from where Santana is sitting and she winces from the pseudo sweet tone in his voice.

"Well Rachel, we would love to have you, if you wanted to audition some day, I'm sure our Glee club could be quite accepting." The rest of the Glee club grumble to each other, even the lowest geeks on the social pyramid didn't want to let this little freak in.

If Rachel noticed the rest of the Glee club's lack of enthusiasm, she doesn't show it because she made a show of turning her head and giggling to Finn standing beside her.

Santana sits in that club for an entire hour and faintly wonders why Quinn would willingly put herself through this. The teacher finally stops talking and the club begins to sing. She suppresses a sigh and throws her head back, wanting this stupid club to sing whatever crap they want and let her leave.

"Something has changed within me, something is not the same." A boy starts out the song; one hand is on his hips while the other fixes his perfect hair while he sings. Rachel is handed a sheet of paper and begins to hum along to the chorus while the flamboyant boy takes the stage. "I'm through with playing by the rules of somebody else's game…Too late for second guessing, too late to go back to sleep, it's time to trust my instincts, close my eyes and leap!"

Surprisingly, the boy is actually good, considering the song being made for a girl, his voice jumps up octaves with a natural ease, the timbre in his voice is melodious and jumps from breathy to warm and flowing in seconds, a small smirk curling his lips as he sings, he knows that he's good.

Santana sits with her arms crossed, her gaze flitting to Quinn and the group on stage throughout the song. Quinn melts into the seat as the song goes on, relaxing more than Santana has ever seen her. As the song nears its end, Santana spots Rachel and quirks her lips at the sight.

The girl stands near the back of the stage, nostrils flaring as her chest heaves violently, rising and falling heavily with each breath. The girl's wide eyes almost look manic as the music swells, creating a tremendous sound, reverberating throughout the room. She then takes small steps forward, pulled as if by string to the center stage.

Deep chocolate eyes look entranced in the music as her hand drops, her sheet music fluttering to the ground as her eyes flutter closed. It looked as if the music was flowing through her, making her move with blasts of sound that meld together. Suddenly, ruby lips stretch into a barely perceivable smile as the music swells and her hands lift as if to just control the music itself.

"So if you care to find me! Look to the Western Sky!"

Rachel belts, her voice coming out clear and round as it fills her mouth and shoots out across the other side of the room. Her voice instantly covers the other boy's voice and swells with a deep staggering sound. It isn't breathy or whispery but brassy and round, flowing like hot chocolate, melting from soft to piercing. It washed over Santana, stealing her breath as a strange sensation prickled across her skin, leaving it ravished and weak like gooseflesh. The sound came out with a force, filling the entire room and bounding off the walls as if looking for more room.

Everyone in the Glee club halts, coming to an abrupt stop while their heads whip about, searching frantically for that crushing, remarkable sound. Mouths drop open when they find Rachel, belting it by the side as if no one else was around, as if her lips were meant to shape the same notes again and again.

"As someone told me lately, everyone deserves the chance to fly!" Rachel doesn't seem to notice the lack of singing around her, as if she's too wrapped and tied in the music itself to even see another person.

"And if I'm flying solo, at least I'm flying free! To those who ground me, take a message back from me" The music blurs together as her voice strikes a tremendous chord.

Olive-skinned arms fly up above her head; gesturing to an audience she believes to be non-existent "Tell them how I'm defying gravity. I'm flying _high_, defying gravity" Her rich tone trembles as she opens her eyes again, the song falling off her lips and dies as she covers her mouth, an ashamed blush covering her cheeks.

"Damn…" Santana murmurs but quickly slips down into the seat, her hand flying over her mouth, but Quinn doesn't notice this time. Clamoring back onto her seat, she leans in close and notices the girl's stiff shoulders.

The thick golden hair seems to be touched by electricity, standing alert against her neck as static thrums in the air. Goosebumps rise up against her arms and necks, filling her skin, making a delicate shiver run up her spine. In the silence, the only thing that can be heard is the deep breaths coming out in disjointed gasps from Quinn's throat.

"I guess I got a little bit carried away" The girl's voice rips Santana from her observation and she sits back and watches Finn grins at the girl beside him, a small flicker of rapaciousness flashes across his features, making his beady eyes glimmer as he slaps her on the back.

The girl stumbles slightly from the boy's playful slap and she notices Quinn stiffen, but Rachel beams up at the boy innocently, completely oblivious to his change in demeanor. The rest of the Glee club mumbles and groans, shaking their heads in confusion. Figuring the drama of the Glee club was finally over; Santana gets up quietly and hears the smaller boy's voice as he turns to the dark, plump girl.

"This bitch did _not_ just steal my solo," he whispers harshly, his voice bordering diva-ish.

The cold air of the night hits her as she leaves the auditorium and she immediately pulls her arms over herself in attempt to shield herself from the piercing wind. She walks far enough away from the auditorium to look innocent and leans against it.

She knows that in a few minutes Quinn is going to strut out of that auditorium, hands on hips and a mischievous smirk on her pink lips and order her to do something horrible to that girl in the room. That is what they do best; Quinn is the cold and calm one who stands idly by, hands on hips and tight-lipped smile, while Santana acts on impulse, breaking the person down slowly. Then, as if in a fit, Quinn will come out of her cold shell and destroy the little dweeb in small flashes of fury. S

antana frowns gently, knowing that Rachel will undoubtedly be their next victim; she can't say she feels too bad about it, it is destroy or be destroyed, only the meanest can survive this high school on top. It's a dog-eat dog world out here and neither of them have the time to stop and feel bad for the weak.

The closing of a door snaps Santana from her thoughts, her face subconsciously pulls itself into its normal façade, her lips stretch into a cruel smirk, and a single eyebrow is quirked up. But when she looks around the corner, she has to fight to keep her smirk in place because the girl she sees isn't the cruel girl walking with her head up high and gliding, as if she were too good for the ground.

Instead, her arms swing gently in the blackness of the night as she strolls out of the auditorium before subconsciously wrapping around her. Those usually frosty hazel eyes have melted into a dreamy glaze as she walked tentatively from the building, in a daze. Quinn's naturally hard expression has relaxed into one of wonderment as the plumpness of her cheeks curve into a shy smile.

Santana blinks, unable to grasp the change in her friends face. She's hardly recognizable, and if she hadn't gone into that auditorium, she would have believed Quinn had been abducted and replaced by a softer and kinder model.

But that thought died the moment Quinn lifted her head, catching Santana's form in the distance. Almost instantly, her hazel eyes freeze as if a snowstorm were raging through the diminutive window of her eyes; freezing her from the inside out and magically conjuring the normal Quinn Fabray.

"What are you doing here?" She hisses, her whole demeanor reverting to Quinn's cold snappy attitude. Santana sighs and plays her part, inspecting her perfectly manicured nails with indifference.

"Oh nothing, I have just been sitting here for the past hour and a half, staring at my thumbs" She mumbles dryly and Quinn huffs, stalking past her impatiently, probably walking to her car but the sound of giggling makes her stop and Santana turns just in time to see Finn guiding the little giddy dwarf out of the auditorium.

The girl's giggling wildly at the gigantic being that looms over her as if he were some comedic genius. "I've just found the eighth dwarf and her name is Giggly," She says with a low chuckle but winces at the sudden sound of Quinn gritting her teeth.

"What is he doing with her?" Her voice is low and dangerous and Santana eyes her warily, Quinn doesn't usually get this angry over some stupid new girl.

"Probably defying gravity," She murmurs just as lowly, mocking her, but Quinn doesn't even look at her, instead she walks away, leaving Santana alone with her unappreciated jokes.

Quinn's retreating form is quickly disappearing in the blackness of the night and Santana has to run to keep up with her, huffing. This is so not what she would like to be doing after these past Cheerios practices.

"What are you doing?" Her hoarse voice rips from her throat and loses itself in the howling wind. She can see Finn faintly in the dark sky as he waves goodbye to Rachel, the brunette smiling another painfully dazzlingly smile at the boy before turning away, completely oblivious to the blonde lurking twenty feet behind her. "Quinn!" She sprints towards the blonde and grasps the girl's arm, her fingernails digging sharply into the pale flesh of her friend a little harsher than intended as she jerks Quinn's forearm. But she loosens almost instantly, Santana's grip drops, because even in the darkness she can see Quinn's hazel eyes shimmering with mystery. "What are you going to do?" An eyebrow rises and Quinn's lips twist into a fake smile.

"Oh come on Santana, you know how this thing works, I'm just going to show her where she falls on the scale, far away from Finn." She murmurs darkly and dauntingly strides back into the harrowing darkness.

Santana sighs, a little sick of this game, honestly, she just wants to go home and be pleasantly ignored. It's not that she feels particularly bad for the dwarf, because she doesn't, but Quinn is the one organizing these little pranks, and sometimes when she remembers all the shit she and Quinn have gone through together, she fears that one day Quinn will wake up one day and hate every thing about herself. After all, _everyone_ has a breaking point.

They follow Rachel for what seems like hours, Santana's legs move lethargically and she can hear Quinn's hard pant as they move through the long grass and windy roads. Rachel seems to walk aimlessly, as if she could walk for the entire night without tiring, winding around another tree and coasting past another boulder. The places start to blur together and it seems like they are rounding in circles, and Santana begins to wish she had just left a _long_ time ago.

But eventually, they do reach the edge of the forest, the ominous trees swaying lightly in the night air as their branches crack and groan from the wind's adamant hits, rustling their dry leaves together and sending chills down Santana's back again.

Rachel walks into the forest and Santana sighs, bowing her head, off course Rachel goes into the dark creeping forest.

"You know Quinn, we don't even know Rachel, her whole giggly innocent thing could just be an act and she could have realized we were following her a while ago and now she is leading us into our untimely but certain deaths." Quinn chuckles, glancing at Santana

"Are you afraid of a little dark grove?" She chuckles dryly

"Grove? That's a freaking tree labyrinth," The girl continues to laugh, and Santana frowns, becoming increasingly irritated. "What are your parents going to say about you being out so late?" Quinn freezes, narrowing her eyes as her lips purse, the chuckle dying in her throat. "Yeah, I thought so, don't be making fun of me Fabray…Grove my ass," She grumbles and they are quickly enveloped in silence as they continue to follow the girl.

Rachel walks into the small opening of the forest, her small, lithe form quickly disappearing through the dense woods. It's like something from a horror film, the darkness of the night swallowing them up and leaving the others fumbling blindly behind. Quinn curses and the two girls pick up their speed, running into the opening and throwing themselves head first into the darkness. Their shoes crunch loudly against the fallen leaves and seem to crack every single branch, creating a tremendously loud sound that have no doubt, waken some night crawling beast to come and devour them whole. But they continue, despite the winter night chilling their bones and prickling across their skin until it becomes as raw as gooseflesh.

The only thing that keeps them from losing sight of the girl is the occasional flutter of that damned white dress. The small creatures hiding in the brush cackle at the girls' attempts to follow Rachel. A gust of wind escapes the protection of the tall pine trees, making Quinn yelp and jump into Santana's arms as the breeze whips around them violently, throwing the unsettled soil into the air and howling dangerously.

Santana gasps for breath as Quinn's arms wrap tightly around her waist and squeeze a little too tightly.

"Jesus Quinn, it's just the wind" Santana wheezes, stopping in her tracks, trying to pry the frightened girl from her waist. Once the breeze settles again, Quinn pushes her away, brushing non-existent dust from her uniform, and stands painfully straight.

"I know that!" She growls, her pride effectively wounded.

Santana grumbles and whips around, only to find that Rachel is completely out of sight. Leaving both Santana and Quinn in the middle of a forest maze. With a deep breath, her fingers come up, gently caressing her pulsating temples as a headache begins to form. Large pine trees are strewn about among the floor, creating two eerie paths, looking equally dark and dangerous. Long, untrodden grass sways in the faint breeze on both paths. This is hopeless.

"Come on!" Quinn's voice rips her from her observation and she glances over to her friend, walking confidently towards the second path. "I smell freak this way"

Santana huffs, glancing at her disappearing friend who apparently has not seen the footprints of the little freak that trails in the moist soil, leading her to the very opposite path where Quinn vanished.

"Quinn" She hisses, whipping her head around, but with a hopeless sigh, she continued this miserable task. With a sigh, she follows Rachel's footprints; this girl is going to be in a lot of trouble when she finally finds her. What is the dwarf thinking, leading them through this stupid forest in the middle of the night? Whatever it is, it had better be good, or else the girl's in for a beating.

Santana follows the footprints until her legs are aching and her shoulders slump from exhaustion, but finally she finds the girl at a small opening in the forest. Her usually bright smile has simmered down slightly and she plays with a large watch in her hands before slipping the shiny object into her dress. Rachel smiles gently to herself before strolling towards a small pond. The girl crouches at the edge of the pond and runs a tentative hand through the water, watching as it ripples gently at the disturbance. Santana rolls her eyes and creeps up close; she did_ not_ just follow Rachel into a dark forest so that she could watch the girl play with water.

A strange sound makes her hesitate; Santana tenses, frozen with one foot ten feet away from the crouching girl and the other bent back, looking like a frozen action toy.

But Santana doesn't move, her wide eyes watching the crouched girl hesitantly as she slowly moves the fabric of her dress away, revealing her back. The muscles ripple underneath the tawny skin as the form of her spine presses pronounced against her back. But there is something very odd about how it looks.

Black veins pulsate beneath the smooth skin as if her flesh were as thin as paper. But that isn't the only thing, it's not what makes the fine hairs on Santana's neck rise. No, it's the thing _moving _beneath her skin. She suppresses a gag when a horrible grinding sound fills the air and within a flash, the girl's back splits open and two spikes seem to sprout from the skin, growing like a tree out from her back. It withered and spread, growing white glistening leaves before stretching out tremendously into a glorious form. Santana's eyes roll to the back of her head as she falls to the ground, her knees suddenly too weak to support her.

Shuddering violently on the suddenly freezing ground, she forces herself to look up again, watching weakly as two large, white wings flex eagerly from behind Rachel.

_Oh. My. Fucking. God. _Santana makes a strange whimper, unable to look away, but wanting nothing more in the world but to run away and never look back.

The girl lets out a soft sigh, flexing those monstrous wings as each ivory feather rustles and readjusts themselves, glimmering lightly even in the pitch dark. A scream begs to rip from Santana's throat but fear has clenched her jaw shut and so, she watches silently, her every limb trembling as her fingers dig deeper into the moist soil. A small part of her thinks the girl is going to turn around, her eyes glowing red and ferocious fangs peeking out from behind those crimson lips and rip her to pieces. All that will be found is the small fragments of flesh that were not consumed. Santana whimpers, her frantic hands managing to send her crawling backwards, propelling herself behind a bush in a disjointed, frantic rush. But just behind that bush, her heaving body falls on a twig, creating a horrifying crunching sound that makes the thing snap up from its crouching position.

It still _looks_ like Rachel, wide wondering eyes as a small curious smile pulls at her lips; her pearly white teeth have yet to transform into sharp, piercing fangs and her tanned skin looks just as smooth, if not more fragile.

"Hello?" Rachel's soft voice trills through the silent night but Santana still cannot respond, her mind is whirling from her shattered reality.

_Have I gone insane?_

Rachel looks around haphazardly but apparently seems to give up seconds later, turning back towards the pond. Santana's glad for that, she doesn't know what she would do if Rachel were to find her. She's caught between fainting, or jumping up to fight for her life. Eventually, the girl plops her feet into the sloshing water of the pond, the dark liquid swallowing up to her knees as she wades in the water. Santana creeps forward again, her curiosity getting the best of her once again. She's starting to hate that part of her.

As the girl dips deeper into the pond, the water ceases to move, as if freezing in place and letting Rachel defy reality again by walking through glass. Santana gulps down a rasp of air as Rachel's slick black hair disappears underneath the water, swallowed up by glass without a single ripple or bubble disturbing the surface.

Santana's weak heart begins to pound heavily in her chest and all she can hear is this _pounding _of blood rushing in her ears.

"Rachel?" She murmurs, scrambling forward until she is crouching at the edge of the pond. She doesn't see anything but her frightened reflection looking back at her. "Rachel!" She yelps, a little frantically, the girl isn't coming up for air. She plunges her hands into the pond, forgetting her fear of being eaten alive, now searching frantically for Rachel's body.

Her fingertips scratch into the muddy bottom, the sticks and pebbles gathers underneath her fingernails as she digs through them. Water splashes and ripples, now looking just as frantic as she is, rippling around Santana's dark forearms and splashing her face. The water is dark, but despite this, she can sense nothing has been trapped among the pond's bottom. It's completely empty. After a moment, she retracts her hands, expelling a chilling, shaky breath as shivers prickle cross her skin and the wind seems to freeze her drenched arms into cold, limp icicles.

"What are you doing here?" Santana whips around to find Quinn behind her, grinding her teeth, looking rather frustrated. "I'm out there looking for Rac-the dwarf and you're staring into a pond!" Quinn whines childishly but Santana doesn't have the energy to roll her eyes, all she can do is look into the water.

What the _fuck _did she just witness?

Quinn's hand comes down on her shoulder gently, "Hey, are you okay?" the anger has drained from her friend's voice, leaving it soft and gentle with concern.

Santana's only response is to slump into her friend's side, her eyelids fluttering as she swallows the desperate tears swelling inside, propelling her into a troubled sleep.

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><p><strong>Shh...There are no mistakes...Blame my Beta for the mistakes you find, she's useless lol<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

The Looking Glass

Chapter 5

**Hey Guys! Sorry for the long wait...Ya know, life, school, homework and whatever got in the way :D But I finally got this updated yaay! Hopefully the length makes up for the time you guys waited. Also, Love love LOVE the reviews. Seriously, they are deeply encouraging. Um...My beta was a bit tired and mega lazy so she didn't read all of it, so if there are any mistakes...Blame my sane twin Seriously...Just go crazy lolol jk**

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><p>She leaves much earlier than usual. Quietly untangling herself from her friend, Rachel quietly stands to leave, her mind already visiting her second world. Now her feet must follow through.<p>

She can hardly keep herself away. It's as if a string has tied itself around her very center and tugs, pulling her back into this strange, unknown world.

It's odd. Shouldn't one feel more connected to the place they were raised in? Instead, she feels herself grow lighter and more at peace with herself with every step that closes the distance between her and this new world.

Her dream world. A world of different varies of color, so unlike her home made of sapphire and jade; where the sun is simply a visitor in this new world of ice.

Where water actually falls from the _sky._ Where birds chirp in jovial, melodic songs, and frogs croak out as if to join in. A place where metal beasts roam along paved streets; where looming, strange buildings stretch out to meet the sky, an abnormality compared to the small huts the angels are retained in.

There are so many unquenchable questions that thrive in Rachel's mind, reviving to life with every new object created by the brutish human hands she was once taught to avoid. For a reason she is starting to question.

Ivory-feathered wings stretch restlessly behind her as she contemplates. They twitch and ruffle, wanting nothing more than to soar through the wild, open skies of this new world. To dive and swirl among the trees and buildings and view the humans through an entirely different perspective.

She reaches the small structure and regards it politely, running the pad of her fingertips along the rough walls in habit. This building is no longer strange, for she has seen some that are much stranger, but it still holds something unique in her heart, a promise. An unspoken oath.

Because the humans didn't create this building, the angels did, and although it is primitive, made with sticks and mud. Rachel hopes that someday the angels will be able to make half of what the humans have created.

The small charcoal figures greet her in violent, vibrant colors of black and red. Their angry faces mock her as they throw their small inky weapons through the weak sliver form represented as an angel.

Isn't that what the angels have taught her? That all angels are the same, one united species. One angel's cut is another's pain. But the humans must have changed. They can't be quiet as brutal as the past. Things _must_ have changed.

She sighs and lets her wings collapse as she crawls through the small, musky cave. The angel's heart flutters in excitement as the low shimmering waters of the Looking Glass greet her.

The humans are brash, impulsive, and have all the capacity to destroy everything within reach. But for some unexplainable reason, Rachel cannot fathom it.

Even as the proof lies right in front of her, she can't help but feel a gentle, sweet connection to each passionate human heart. How could they hurt her? They couldn't, right? Not when she feels so at home in their strange way of life.

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><p>McKinley High School is strangely empty when she arrives; she treads carefully across the quad, her bright brown eyes flickering about rapidly. They refuse to cease, whirling like a Ferris wheel in its determination to find someone.<p>

Her lips twitch with uncertainty. It's not that the school is actually empty, she can hear an occasional whisper break the silence or the rustle of clothing against skin, it's just that nobody is near_ her_.

It's as if an impenetrable bubble surrounds her, pushing away human life with its elastic boundaries. Rachel sighs softly, walking through the hallway mindlessly. Her eyes start to whirl again, shooting like darts for a sign of familiar life.

Then something catches in the corner of her eye. Just a flicker of movement. Through small tinted windows, she can see the faint silhouettes of people, packed together, grumbling and whispering in irritation, their shoulders bumping against each other from the hallways being so over-crowded.

Stopping in front of the door, her eyebrows furrow in confusion.

How odd. What are they doing? The crowded group of humans looks oddly in pain, as if their being in this room caused a great amount of anguish and distress. Another action that fails to make any sense to her.

Her hand comes up and rests on the doorknob, brushing the cold metal gently. Well, monkey see, monkey do, if humans must endure such odd transactions, well than so shall she.

But right as she is about to tug the small handle and open the door, she hears a faint _click _of the door locking. She lets out a small breath in bewilderment, leaning in to press her face against the glass. Her eyes flicker around, looking through the thin windowpane determinately, searching for any sense or logic behind these strange human antics.

However, despite her efforts, all she can see is the glass, faintly fogged up from her breath. With a soft sigh, Rachel turns around and slumps against the door dramatically. Eyebrows knitting and her lips pouting, she pulls her thoughts together to think. What is this that the humans must partake in? It can't be very pleasurable, and if it was, why was the door locked?

Rachel sighs softly, looking down at her feet, suddenly feeling rather meek for being left out.

She trusts the humans not to hurt her, but she still cannot shake feel of anxiety bursting through her veins, clouding her head with judgment. She wishes Finn were here. The boy has become a bodyguard of sorts and she feels bare without him by her side.

When she looks up, she sees a small crowd of people all wearing uniformed red and white jackets. A small flag pops up in Rachel's mind and she grins at the boys as she remembers what Finn had told her yesterday.

These were Jocks, identified by red and white jackets and Styrofoam cups. Rachel looks over each boy and grinned wider, there were ten boys and they were all holding Styrofoam cups.

_Am I going to make the acquaintance of these Jocks? Is that why the rest of the students are hiding? Everyone is giving the Jocks time so that they could properly introduce themselves to me and offer me their friendship, of course, how kind of them._

She steps forward, preparing to introduce herself to these people; her hand now outstretched like Finn's had before. However, her perfectly mimicked action was never accepted, in fact, she never even made it past her first step.

The first boy, the obvious leader of the pack, steps forward. His lips twitch into a contorted smile, though admittedly, it looks more like a snarl. But Rachel isn't one to judge people's smiles, so she waits for the boy to speak, hoping that she looks encouraging.

"You've been blacklisted" Is all he says, his gravelly voice making the peculiar hairs on the back of her neck stand up. The steel cords of muscle in his arms flex and coil backwards, his cup tilted in an odd angle. Rachel cocks her head to the side, watching in curiosity as the contents within the Styrofoam cup slosh around messily.

Then, in a snap, the boy's arm juts forward. It's a flash, a moment of stinging, cold ice, and Rachel suddenly can't breathe.

She chokes out a strangled gasp as the icy drink slops messily onto the floor and staining her white cotton clothes. A sharp, painful stinging pokes and prods her tender eyes like pins and needles; small chunks of ice drip down her face, making trails of cold syrup down her chest and back. _Oh. _How unpleasant.

Small shivers tremor up her spine, emanating small shudders throughout her body. She has to suppress the overwhelming need to let her wings out and fly away. Instead, her hands come up to rub the stinging sensation from her eyes.

_What did he do to me? It hurts so badly, ah it burns! _

She has never once experienced _this_ before, but this new encounter is not nearly as fun as walking in the rain for the first time. Her heart throbs in her chest and she shies away from the rare pain.

It ripples through her flesh, beating into her like steel pipes that crush against her tender skin; Rachel cringes into the wall. Through her hands, she sees the boy turn around and walk away, the last thing she sees of the boy is the word _Karofsky_ embroidered onto his jacket. A small whimper expels from her lips as her hands press gently against her eyelids, gingerly rubbing the sticky syrup from her eyes.

And when that didn't work, she gradually works herself into a wild tirade of movements, flailing and scratching, trying anything to make the horrible sensation stop.

It's only when the stinging finally starts to ebb away when another wave of ice hits her, a confused sob rips from her throat. _What is happening? Why are they doing this to me?_

Rachel cries out in pain, her knees buckle and collapses beneath her, forcibly crumbling her lithe body to the ground as her arms constrict around her to protect herself. Her wings tremble and twitch inside her back, wishing for an escape.

But she could never do that, not now. No matter how she curls up, she cannot escape the stinging ice that both freezes and burns. She pants as her back contorts painfully, her wings having no more patience with her surrender and she whines, her teeth crashing into the soft flesh of her lower lip as she tries to control herself.

The attack lasts until the final tenth boy throws his cup. Laughter rings throughout the halls, pronouncing their gradual descent from her presence. Ten times. Ten times, she had to endure the syrupy ice staining her dress and matting her hair.

Ten times, she kneeled there and felt herself covered in tortuously cold, sticky, sweet ice. She waits there, kneeling at the opening of the hallway, frozen. She tries desperately to understand what has just happened, her heart sinking painfully in her chest. It pounds heavily behind its ribcage, throbbing in her throat and pulsing loudly against her ears.

She wants to crawl away and hide, to scurry underneath a rock and never surface. But it isn't until she tastes salty moisture on her lips that she finally moves. Her trembling fingers move to dab away the moisture collecting against her cheeks.

Looking down at her fingers, she frowns; she's only felt the presence of the mysterious moisture once before, and now it comes again. But she is no closer to understanding what it means. Will it always be these odd, strange humans that provoke such reactions within her?

A soft noise brings Rachel to look up. A slim figure leans against the wall, caramel toned arms wrap around her chest as cold, dark eyes stare unblinkingly back at her. _Santana._

Her eyes are as cold and pitiless as sharks, and somehow, beyond the humiliation and confusion, Rachel can feel a little fear sputtering in her heart. A deep burning knowledge aches and burns in the girl's eyes, only forming more unanswered questions.

Whatever it is, Santana knows something, and it's feeding her deep, dark curiosity. And something tells her that Santana isn't the kind of girl to give mercy when she wants questions answered.

Their stare down is interrupted when Quinn struts up to her friend, a self-satisfied smirk curling at her pink lips. Rachel droops a little, a soft-spoken knowledge whispering in her head, somehow connecting that whatever just happened to her is the very reason for the girl's unusual perkiness.

It doesn't take long for Quinn to notice Santana's distraction, however, and Rachel drops her head in shame. Her cheeks flare up in a rosy tint as the two cheerleaders stare at her.

Even so, her heart both flutters and pounds in her chest when she glances up, finding Quinn's dark, chestnut eyes boring into her. Her body's reaction only adds to her confusion and she sniffles, suddenly overcome with the need for a hug.

She sniffles again; beginning to feel a little bit homesick; she misses her friends, who she is certain, would _not_ throw ice at her.

She does not notice the change in atmosphere until a familiar shadow casts across her face, making her shiver unnecessarily.

Looking around she finds people walking by her, nonchalantly, as if she weren't sitting in the middle of the quad, shivering and dripping with ice. Squinting, she looks up at the shadow and finds Finn, smiling bashfully, his hands fidgeting nervously.

Finally, he decides, jutting out his large paw like hands into her face, reminding her of a handshake. Heaving a sigh, she feels something curl deep within her, making her tingle and she almost feels like glaring at the boy. She is in no mood for guessing games; she stares at the hand absently, making no move towards it. She will not be playing their little games today.

Finn's smile dwindles at her lack of enthusiasm and he sighs. Rachel can hear his joints pop as he crouches next to her, his hands lying limply on his knees

"Look, I'm really sorry about that, it looked really harsh" He says gently and holds out his hand again, this time she lets her hand slide in with his gently and he pulls her up slowly. "Ew, you're all sticky," a low chuckle rumbles through his chest, but she doesn't have the energy to smile.

"Does this happen regularly?" She murmurs, looking up at him through heavily iced eyelashes, she cannot help the small flitter of hope that shoots through her. She wants to believe that this is just a silly routine of the humans that they do to everyone they just meet.

A silly greeting of sorts. Looking up at the boy, she searches his face for an explanation, or anything. But all he does is scratch his head.

"Well, it only happens to the people Quinn and Santana blacklist, this morning they put you on the list and well…then this happened" He says with a shrug, as if it was inconsequential to heave cups of ice at people.

"So you just do it to the people you dislike?" she says, her voice cracking slightly with despair.

"Well, that's just Quinn and Santana, they hate everyone" He says with another shrug, as if the word _hate_ hadn't just rolled off his tongue as easily as saying candy.

Rachel sighs, shaking her head slightly, she wants desperately to ask why he hadn't thought to help her, but after everything he's just said, she is afraid of the answer.

"Hey, don't look so glum, I have some extra clothes in my gym bag. They'll be too big for you but at least you won't be shivering so badly" He smiles, Rachel notices that he is acting as if this kind of thing isn't that big of a deal, so she smiles up at him and tries to act nonchalant about the whole ordeal.

Finn must have seen her smile as forgiveness and he throws his arms over her, hugging her tightly to him. She can feel Quinn's eyes on her again and when she looks over, she can see the tight grimace as a small vein pulsates visibly in her forehead.

Finn is oblivious to his girlfriend's stare and holds Rachel closer, she can hear his heart thrumming in her ear, and feels her own small wounded heart begin to pick itself up from where it had sank. She cannot help it, it's in her nature to forgive and forget.

They walk together until they reach the bathroom door, his cheeks tinting into a deep crimson as he fumbles with his gym bag, and practically throws it at her when he is finished. It wasn't very gentle, but she's sure he had pure intentions. She holds it and waits for him to come in with her, but he doesn't, instead he smiles his usual bashful smile and strolls away.

With a small sigh, Rachel walks into what she presumes to be the Ladies room. The floor feels sticky beneath her bare feet and she grimaces. Grabbing paper towels, she makes a small pathway towards the mirror.

Throwing the clothes onto the counter, she makes her slow trek across the bridge of towels as she glances around for anyone else in the small room.

Pursing her lips, she thrums her fingers against the hard porcelain of the counter, stares at the pile of clothing as if it were to suddenly animate, and start telling her all of its secrets; the cloths, however, think otherwise and stubbornly remains silent. With a small frown, Rachel rips her eyes from the bundled pile and looks to the mirror.

Her face is stained purple and little droplets of red and green drip down her cheeks, down her neck, and mix together with the stained mess that is her dress. Her dress is multicolored and stiff from dried syrup.

Her hair is matted and full of knots, little droplets of melted ice drip from the drenched tendrils of dark hair, making her look like a sticky rainbow.

Having no explanation for the troubled mirror, she smiles politely at the reflection and works at fixing herself.

Turning the valve onto hot, she waits for the water to get hot and shoves pieces of paper towel down the drain to clog the water. Reaching over, she lets nimble fingers undo the small clasp on the necklace and pulls it over her head.

The golden wings are splattered with purple ice and the flickering bead in the middle is plastered with slushie. An unhappy groan rips from her lips as she brushes her thumb across the warm, pulsating bead and gently places it in the filling sink.

Next comes her face, tearing more paper towels from the strange black dispenser, she collects it over the warm pouring water and waits until its rough, scratchy surface is soft and moist. She slowly brings the towel to her cheek and runs it down to her neck, watching as her reflection's cheek is saved from the suffocating purple ice.

After discarding ten ruined paper towels, she is finally done with her face and chest.

It's only when she begins to crouch and tilt her head, preparing to cramp it into the small space does she hear the faint _click _of the bathroom door closing.

A surprised yelp begs to rip from her throat and she just barely keeps from banging her head on the metal faucet, but she manages to sit up silently and somewhat unscathed from further injury.

Glancing towards the door she sees Santana leaning against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest and a horrible smile crawling over her lips that oddly reminds Rachel of a pouncing cat.

"Well, what happened here Giggly? Fall into a rainbow?" She purrs deviously, her black eyes swirling with mischief. Rachel completely misreads her tone and frowns gently to herself

"I should hope that you would know what happened to me since you were the one to blacklist me" Santana merely blinks, her brows knitting together in irritation before she shakes her head and takes a slow step towards her.

"I didn't blacklist you, that was Quinn's idea although it was fun to see" She murmurs, her words becoming scathing to Rachel's heart even as the girl's voice grows softer.

"Why does Quinn _hate_ me?" the word hate falls flat on her lips like a badly told lie and Santana notices.

"She doesn't hate you, that's just what she does, you scared her with your cheek-kissing shit and humiliated her in front of everyone, so by the law of Quinn Fabray, you must be destroyed, no hard feelings."

"_She's _scared of _me_?" She asks, but when she looks up at Santana, she can see it on the girl's face that she doesn't think the idea is that incredulous. Rachel mulls that over for a long moment until she realizes the soft_ click_ of the door means that it is locked.

_Oh. _

"I need to speak with you" Santana's voice is still soft but there is something hard beneath its surface that makes Rachel shudder. Her wings stretch against the thin prison of skin and her heart leaps into her mouth, as if trying to escape the certain onslaught of slushies.

Rachel remains silent and Santana jumps up on the counter, her sun-kissed legs stretching out in front of her, neither girl speaks for a long moment despite what Santana had said.

"I saw you yesterday" She says each word slowly, as if she were still trying to process them.

"I saw you yesterday as well." Rachel replies as calmly as she can, although her mind is flashing with images a million Jocks breaking through the windows to attack her.

"No, not that you idiot!" Santana practically growls. Her eyes glint with a darkness she has never seen, shimmering in the depths of her black eyes. It made Rachel shrink further into the wall, wishing only to be swallowed up by the tiles and plaster bricks.

The Latina takes a deep breath, attempting to clam herself. "I saw you walk into the woods…you reached a pond" Santana's voice cracked, edging into hysteria, but she keeps talking "…And then you had wings and the water got all glassy…and then you were gone!" She sounded as if she didn't believe what she was saying, Rachel is certain that if she weren't already leaning half of her weight on the bathroom wall, she would have already collapsed.

Rachel bites her lip as her mind rushes to find the best possible course of action, should she lie? Laugh it off and run? But all options turn bland in her mind when she looks back to Santana and sees her head down.

Very slowly, Santana lifts her head, her dark eyes staring desperately into Rachel's. "Please, don't tell me that I'm crazy"

Rachel sighs inwardly. Well, so much for _that; _she has a soft spot for humans, she can't help it. Chastising herself, she renews her voice; thinking quickly, she parts her lips to speak the restricted truth.

"You're not crazy" is all she says, and it's whispered so softly Santana may not have even heard it; but the thin breath that expels from the darker girl's lips tells otherwise.

All is silent; the barely whispered words ring through the room and reverberate against the walls.

Rachel looks quickly from Santana's stiff posture to the locked door, and considers taking the bundle of clothing and running away. But Santana is strong, and fast, without her wings she knows Santana could catch up to her quickly.

It's not that she's afraid to tell Santana the truth…but she can't just betray her own species that quickly, they had spent so much energy raising her to live healthily in their world and keep their species safe and in hiding. What would she be if she ran out and told this girl, practically a stranger, and a rather hostile one at that, all of her secrets?

A traitor, that's what she would be, a complete society of angels did not waste 16 years raising their angel to become a traitor.

"That's it? That's all you're saying?" Santana deadpans and Rachel pursed her lips, not able to meet the girl's eyes "Not only did I see you with wings, but you disappeared through water that looked more like glass than actually liquid. I deserve a better explanation other than 'you're not crazy,'" She snaps, impersonating Rachel's voice in what she presumes to be an insulting way.

Rachel's gaze finds its way to the necklace in the sink of water. It's glowing gently, the soft ripples in the water makes the golden wings appear to be flapping, and the bead in the middle, always flickering white light.

Santana sees this and follows Rachel's gaze to the necklace resting at the bottom of the sink. Narrowing her eyes, takes a step forward, her stance screams intimidation and Rachel takes a step back, her own amicable personality cowering from Santana's surly attitude.

"I apologize sincerely for your troubles but some things simply cannot be said, if there is anything I can do for your mental health and or happiness, I would be honored to help you"

"Yeah, you can tell me what the fuck is going on" Santana barks and Rachel winces at the expletive.

"I'm sorry," She says again, her voice slightly darker with sincerity, she smiles gently at the girl.

Santana's black eyes swirl with contempt and her lips turn sour for a moment, and then suddenly, as if a switch was flipped, the girl smiles.

Ruby lips carve into a sweet smile and although it doesn't quite reach the eyes, Rachel is delighted to have pleased the girl.

"You know what? You're right, how rude of me to barge in and demand answers that I clearly don't deserve to know" She says, her voice is like syrup, sugary and sweet, and dripping with understanding.

But something about her eyes looks oddly out of place. They remain dark and burning, as if still angry despite the sweetness of her voice.

Either way, Rachel beams, her chocolate eyes twinkling respectfully, letting the girl know what was right and wrong. "Do you think you could get my some paper towels? It's been a rather long day," She murmurs, wiping at her dry eyes and sniffling, Rachel jumps at the opportunity to pay her back and spins around, only tripping slightly, and rips at the dry, crinkly paper towels.

There is an odd splashing sound, but Rachel ignores it, focusing on her task of helping her soon to be friend. Having a handful of paper towels, she turns around to give it to the girl only to find herself alone in the bathroom.

Shrugging, she turns back to the pile of clothes on the counter.

~~ X ~~

Finn sits on the ground, his feet crossed as his fingers fumble over his Ipod and adjusting the sound. He's missing class right now but he doesn't really care, he knows he wouldn't understand whatever was being taught anyway.

So he's decided to do something productive, waiting around for Rachel to get changed. He felt really bad for avoiding her when she was about to be slushied, but he's just got so much _pressure _to uphold his reputation.

Quinn is barking in his ear every minute about Prom Queen and King, how Glee club has already started ruining their reputation, she also said something about her being a beard, which he really didn't understand.

He can barely escape being slushied by his football teammates, being quarterback and dating the queen of the celibacy club isn't enough anymore, he can't afford saving Rachel from slushies.

But he knows he can make up for it afterwards, so when he sees Rachel walk out of the bathroom, he puts on his best puppy dog face and grins.

She looks funny, he wants to laugh, but every time he's laughed at something Quinn wears, he is always short of getting daggers thrown at him, so he suppresses a chuckle as she waddles from the bathroom.

His jeans are way too big for her, they sag below her waist, just barely clinging to the edge of her hips and she looks like she's trying to swim through his blue corduroy sweater

She beams up at him; Finn likes her smile, he likes how her whole face warps, her eyes twinkle as her face is nearly split in two from the magnitude of it. It's so different from the smiles he's seen from Quinn, she's still beautiful but whenever she smiles it never reaches her eyes, she's so controlled with her emotions while Rachel looks at him like he's a hero.

He holds himself a little higher as he gets up, but as he walks towards her, something catches his attention. The heavy sound of footsteps echo through the hallway and before he knows it, he's throwing himself back to the wall. He looks back up just in time to see the Karofsky flinging a full cup of cherry slushie at the girl.

Fury shoots through his veins and contorts his face with hatred, lunging quickly; he shoots off the wall and grabs Karofsky by the jacket and throws him to the wall.

"What the hell Karofsky?" He says his voice the closest thing to a snarl he's ever heard. The boy smirks and looks up at him,

"What? Angry you couldn't have been the one to do it first?" He murmurs darkly and Finn feels hot rage boiling in his stomach, making his limbs twitch with the urge to knock out that stupid, toothy grin of his.

"That was really mean! Rachel has feelings too" He yells, feeling his face heat up with his fury, it wasn't exactly what he had wanted to say, but it almost sounded epic, so he stands by it. Karofsky merely smirks, his bland eyes twinkling with sadistic pleasure

"If you're so good, why are you attacking me now, instead of protecting your lady before, like a real man?" He says smoothly; Finn wants desperately to say something really witty to defend him and Rachel's honor, but his mind is all fuzzy from being angry, so all he can do is grunt and slam his fist into the locker beside the boy's head.

Karofsky only laughs and shrugs him off, "You better watch your back, not even being quarterback can protect you if you keep holding back. What Quinn says gets done; you should know that better than the rest" Karofsky growls with a revolting chuckle that makes Finn want to attack him all over him.

He was about to just that when he felt a small pressure on his shoulder, turning back, he sees Rachel, dripping with blue slushie while her brown eyes stare at him questionably.

"Let him go" She says softly and with a small grimace, he turns around fully and kicks a locker. The metallic clang makes Rachel jump but Finn just clenches his fists

"Ugh! I could kill him!" He grumbles and kicks the locker again, making Rachel flinch even harder.

"Such violence" She murmurs quietly but even he can sense the deep despair underlining her calm voice. "Maybe I shouldn't come here tomorrow, if this is such a persistent thing," She mumbles.

"Well, that would be silly anyway since tomorrow is Saturday" Rachel merely looks at him blankly and he grins, his previous anger forgotten, for he has finally found someone who gets just as confused as he does by the days of the week. "There is no school tomorrow" He says proudly, expecting her to break out in that grin of hers and swoon at his intelligence, but all she does is stare down at her feet. Frowning, he looks down at her and curses; he would have to try harder to make it up to her since this was the second time he's let her down.

Damn it.

That's when he comes up with a brilliant idea; give her more clothes, of course. "Wait! Come on, I know how to help" He exclaims excitedly, his earlier enragement completely forgotten; he grabs her wrist quickly and tows her away.

Finn stares at the floor, his lips quirking into a smile as Rachel wanders into his room. He had let her take a shower, since that was the courteous thing to do, or so his mom says. Her brown hair is slick and dense at her shoulders and she holds the little white towel close to her, flashing her long, sun-kissed legs to him.

He quickly forgets what he was trying to do as he blatantly stares at her, a dribble of drool peaks at the corner of his mouth. Rachel picks up a strand of hair, brings it up to her nose and sniffs. Her eyelids flutter closed as a pleasant smile drifts back to her lips and her nose crinkles in a cute little way.

"I never knew there were products you could put in your hair that could make it smell this amazing" She says dreamily, at the sound of her voice, Finn jumps from his staring and lets his gaze drift to the floor.

"Yeah, I used to have a lot of manly shampoos but Quinn says she likes it when I smell like strawberries and peaches" He says quirking a smile, although, he has to admit that now that he has said it out loud, it sounds kind of weird.

Glancing up, he finds her wide brown eyes roaming around his room, her nimble fingers glide across the wrinkled paper of his cowboy wallpaper. "Quinn forgot some of her clothes here a few weeks ago," He chatters, suddenly remembering why she was here, he jumps up and dives into the many piles of clothes on his floor. "They have to be here somewhere," he grumbles. When his hands fumble into a small T-shirt and a skirt as well as the undergarments, he grins victoriously and shoves his find into Rachel's face, managing to only blush slightly as she picks up the bra and underwear.

He waits patiently for her to get changed, and smiles at her grunts of confusion through the bathroom door.

When she gets out of the bathroom, he fully expects her full attention, and that face-splitting beam he's been craving. Instead, she sprints from the bathroom, stumbling around the room with wild, intense eyes.

Her hands are grasping at her neck and her breathing sounds nothing short of hysterical, she's whispering something under her breath that sounds oddly like "My necklace, my necklace" its so soft and desperate that it reminds him of that one time he heard Quinn pray.

Standing up, his arms flail about as he thinks of ways he could calm her down, he heard somewhere that when a women becomes hysterical that he was supposed to slap her, but before his mind is able to make any conclusions, she's out of the door.

The room is vacant, filled with the sudden absence of his friend. He blinks, poking his head out the doorway and down the hall, finding only the flicker of dark brown hair as Rachel practically flies out of his house.

His heart thumps in an oddly disorientated pulse, wanting to follow the little, lithe girl out. But by the time he reaches his front door, not a single figment of light could be seen, surrounded by night. And Rachel is long gone.

* * *

><p>~~ X ~~<p>

As impossible as it may seem, Santana is almost certain that the trees uprooted themselves and ran around _just_ to screw with her. She has no idea where she is, and honestly, she doesn't even know why she's here, she acted on pure instinct when she took Rachel's necklace.

The girl had smiled at her all sympathetic and shit and told her nothing, which had just stoked her unyielding curiosity.

Then the moment Santana mentions her disappearing through the glassy water, she had obviously looked at that damned necklace, as if secretly telling it to keep silent with all its secrets. She might as well have just put a "Steal Me" sign on it.

Sighing Santana looks around, the minute slivers of light that had been glinting through the small breaks in the trees are beginning to dim. She's beginning to wonder if her curiosity had led her into trouble again; it's quickly becoming one of her least favorite traits.

"Fuck, where am I?" She groans and tries to keep the panic from her mind, glancing around, her hands tangle into her thick raven hair as she looks around, she's not even looking for the pond anymore, she's looking for anything, anywhere out of this damned forest.

Was there such a thing as anti-claustrophobia? 'Cause she's pretty sure that she's got it, anytime she turns around, her mind explodes with images of men dressed in black jumping out from behind a tree and stabbing her to death.

Every tree holds a potential death and she hates knowing that her back is turned to so many of them. Taking a deep breath, she wraps her arms around herself and imagines herself somewhere safe and small, the image is enough to keep her calm but she still finds herself walking a little too quickly.

That's when she sees it, the two paths of trees, stretching their twisted limbs into the darkening night. Fog pools a few inches above ground, hiding the knotted roots that look like hands thrown up into the open sky as a last attempt to escape suffocation.

She steps extra carefully over these roots, half expecting the inanimate root to suddenly snatch her ankle and drag her down into the earth. She takes the same path she had taken the first time, but she doesn't have the patience to walk anymore, her nerves are fried.

She sprints through the fog, her hand shooting up and tearing away any stray branch in her way and jumping over any fallen trees attempting to stop her in her quest to live. She doesn't stop running until she can see the faint light of the forest opening up, while jumping; she manages to dash through the opening.

Her chest is heaving, her heart's racing, and her raven black hair sticks to her forehead, taking a deep breath, she attempts to regain her composure. She practically collapses at the small grass bed at the foot of the pond, her fingers grazing the surface of the pool as her body lies in recovery.

Santana lies there for a couple long moments, hearing the faint sounds of birds chattering to each other and waiting for her poor heart to relax slightly. Something is burning against her stomach, reaching down into her uniform pocket, she feels for the chain of the necklace.

Pulling it slowly from her pocket, she looks at the golden encrusted wings that glint in the near darkness and the flickering white light in the center that pulses like a heartbeat. Her other hand comes up and flicks the middle gently, glowing heat bursts through her fingertips and shoots up her arm for the split second her skin had grazed the small bead.

Shaking her head, she pushes against the soft grass and plops her legs into the cool water.

She's so confused, and she _hates_ it. She loathes the idea that there is so much going on, so much she wasn't aware about and the only person she could learn from is stubbornly silent.

The _one_ time she actually wants Rachel to speak, the girl is quiet. That's why she's here. The same reason why she stole this stupid necklace, and why she is now sitting here in the same spot where her whole sense of reality shattered.

The necklace bunches up easily into her hand and she closes her hand tightly around it. That damned need to know everything is going to get her killed one day, looking down at the pond; she gulps gently, knowing that _that_ day may be sooner rather than later.

The sound of beating wings distracts the girl slightly but she dismisses the sound as some stupid bird flying around. Leaning over, she looks into the water and sees her reflection, slightly wavering at the gentle waves made from her protruding legs puttering gently in the cool pond.

The first thing she sees is her ruby lips, curling into the same smirk she always wears, next is her perfectly proportioned charcoal eyes and manicured eyebrows. A thick strain of raven black hair has fallen out of her tight ponytail and brushes against her chin. Ruby lips stretch easily into a small smirk

Damn she looks good.

Something flickers behind her reflection, her charcoal eyes narrow as she leans in closer to see better.

The image of her reflection swirls gently and with a blink of an eye, Santana isn't looking at her reflection anymore, instead she sees a beautiful cave, filled with small green plants and a strange rock wall with a missing piece in the middle. Water trickles down the rocky wall and dribbles into a pond identical of the one she's looking into now.

Before she is given the chance to look further, a loud thump distracts her, whipping her head around she sees something that makes her heart immediately jump with fear.

Rachel is kneeling on the soft ground, her face is turned down to the ground and her thin hand is digging into the soft soil. Massive wings stretch over the girl's shoulders, each feather glinting in the moonlight, looking both soft and piercing; the wings shadows create shadows in the already darkening ground.

But Santana doesn't move until the other girl moves, she looks up at Santana, her usually bright chocolate eyes burns with something Santana can't quite identify.

It's something between knowing and sadness and a little bit of disappointment, which is none of the emotions Santana had guessed Rachel would have. What's that thing she's heard? If you steal from somebody and they are immediately angry, don't worry about it but if they are quiet and reserved, give it back to them. It's the quiet ones, who make the most damage,

Rachel gets up from her low crouch and takes a small step towards Santana, her wings flexing, looking increasingly like a threat. Santana looks between Rachel and to the pond, she could either stay here and be killed by this girl or she could jump into this pond and drown; either way, her future doesn't look all too bright, but then again, it never has.

Rachel is completely somber, she looks like a stranger without that signature smile painted onto her face. Santana's heart races painfully, she isn't naïve, she's done something wrong, anywhere else she would be punished, she won't expect anything less from this stranger.

So when Rachel takes another step towards her, a nimble hand coming up, trying to erase the distance between them, Santana makes a decision. With a deep breath, she lets herself fall from where she perched at the bed of grass and lets her body slice through the surface of the water.

The moment her body hits the water, a million things happened at once, Rachel's eyes widened with something akin to fear and she jumps forward, lurching to where Santana had been seconds ago.

Another thing that happens the moment she slips under the water is that time freezes. At least, she thinks it freezes, the water that had once been passable as liquid becomes piercingly thick, she feels as if she's frozen in a picture.

She tries to move her arms but the water keeps her from moving too much. The water is so cold, too cold, every move she makes lets a little more water down her throat and fill her lungs, making them burn and ache.

Rachel is at the edge of the pond, her chocolate eyes wide with fear, Santana opens her mouth to scream, but the moment she opens her mouth, water fills in, choking her and filling her lungs with its burning glass.

Her heart thunders in her chest as she looks up at Rachel. Rachel's image is crystal clear, but the glassy water makes a thin screen that no matter how hard she tries, she can't break through, creating a world she can't go back into, all she can do is watch hopelessly.

If she tries hard, she can pretend she is only watching a movie instead of drowning in a pond of ninja glass water.

Santana's mind becomes fuzzy from the lack of oxygen; a low _buzz_ fills her ears and reverberates through her mind as little speckles of black disrupt her vision.

Although her mind's become lethargic, her body hasn't, it jerks, kicks, and twitches with the same stubborn energy that got her into this mess. Santana's eyelids are quickly becoming heavy and she watches the screen with mild interest, Rachel's mouth is opening comically wide, as if she were trying to speak.

Suddenly, Rachel breaks the screen and strong hands penetrate the glass and grasp at Santana's body. This makes her jerk, her eyelids flutter open again and her mind temporarily clears from the dizzying buzz. For a moment, she thinks that Rachel is trying to pull her out, but then she feels the girl's arms against her, restraining her. Her body jerks away from her but the girl is surprisingly strong, the girl's trying to say something again and Santana sighs inwardly, because she doesn't have the air to actually do a real sigh.

"Stay still!" The girl is screaming into the pond and Santana wants to laugh at her but she's forgotten how to. Yeah, she'll be still when she's dead.

Unfortunately, her body is no longer listening to her mind. The low buzz is back and for once, her body does something that would have completely ashamed her, had she been fully conscious. Her body gave up.

Rachel's smiling at her, which is really pretty fucked up, she _knew_ Rachel was secretly insane, but she's far too gone to care anymore. Faintly, she wonders what her parents would think, would they cry? Would they even notice that their dearest daughter had died? What would Quinn do? Santana's sure Quinn would care, she doesn't show it much, but Quinn cares for her, who knows, she may even have a funeral.

The last thing she feels is…warmth, not in her whole body, it's chilled beyond belief from the piercingly cold glass water, but her hand is warm.

The same hand that holds its death grip on Rachel's mysterious necklace is being pulled down, down, down.

The world is closing in front of her and the last thing she sees is Rachel, her smile isn't so bright and she finds it strangely funny that she actually looks disappointed. Rachel's sad that Santana is here drowning instead of her

…_Freak_.

~~ X ~~

Rachel waits until the last of the Looking Glass's glassy sheen transforms back into normal water. She smiles gently, not really out of happiness but out of habit, and gets up quietly. Knowing that Santana was safe, and having nothing else to do, she leaves the forest and goes to the only place she has left, the old barn.

_It's not all that bad_, she thinks optimistically, _at least it has started to rain again_. It's difficult to feel the rain beneath the human's clothing, but she doesn't mind it too much, she likes being in human clothes, it makes her feel like she belongs in this world.

The old barn is in the same condition it was in when she first saw it, it exudes a strange smell of rotting wood that makes her nose crinkle but the hay that covers its floor and loft makes her feel warm and fuzzy.

The moment she is in the safety of the barn, she collapses into the soft heap of hay, and groans as her body aches from today's pains. Her eyelids droop, suddenly just as heavy as her arms and legs, she lets everything sag into sleep.

Sleep doesn't overtake her for long though, because for what seems like only minutes later, she hears a horrible hissing sound. A single eyelid flutters open to see a small, black kitten with a white nose and paws at the opposite room.

At first, she thought that something so cute and small couldn't possibly make such a hideous noise, but then when she shifts, she hears it again.

The kitten hisses, a single white paw coming up and swatting at her direction. It's yellow eyes are nothing but a small ring surrounding it's dilated pupils. Opening its mouth, sharp teeth reveal themselves behind its cute whiskers and another growling sound breaks the peace.

Heaving a sigh, Rachel figures that she will not be sleeping tonight if she did not correct the misunderstanding this kitten had with her. Getting up on her knees, she stares at the kitten for a long moment.

At the movement, the kitten jumps up on its hind legs, its paws swatting at the air and yowling loudly. Rachel quirks her head to the side, biting her lip she tries to determine the gender of the kitten; she couldn't be calling the kitten "it" if she ever wanted to clear the air.

Although, she knows she's unable to actually talk to animals, she still believes it deserves the respect of being a certain gender. Her wings stretch out as she thinks and flaps a few times, unsettling a few stray straws of hay, before settling back down by her side.

After a few long moments of Rachel thinking back to all the elders had taught her about felines, she finally determines the cat to be male.

She thinks about congratulating him, but by the way he is pacing the length of the barn, he's not in the congratulatory mood.

"What's wrong with you?" She murmurs, and shuffles closer to him but it only seems to get more upset the closer she comes to him. "Am I sleeping on your bed?" She looks down at the hay beneath her, it looks rather untouched. Frowning gently, she looks back up to him, his black hair is all puffed out and he hisses at her particularly loudly.

She moves again and he jumps back, hissing wildly, making an odd thought enter her mind. The moment the thought entered her mind, she began to giggle, it hisses at the sound and paces back and forth, looking absolutely enraged that she was laughing at it.

She tried to remain polite, but once the thought had entered, it refused to leave, and his every movement began to only prod her hilarity, she blames the humans and their bad influence on her warped sense of humor.

Sighing, she lets her wings droop into the hay and the kitten looks at her with an expression that could only be explained as incredulous, and she has to chew on her bottom lip to keep another giggle from escaping. She felt bad for laughing at him and almost tried to explain it to him, but she figured he just wouldn't understand.

The kitten looked oddly like Quinn, not in physical appearance, that would be insulting to the beautiful cheerio, and probably the disturbed kitten. No, but his every action reminded her of Quinn, his wide-eyed glare and snarling features.

She decided not to bring it up in her mind again when she realized that these were the only expressions she could identify with Quinn.

Her heart shreds and pulls itself apart in strange ways that made her body tremble from the shock of it, she wasn't used to pain like this and she sighed heavily.

"You just wouldn't understand Mr. Kitty" She sighs again and the kitten sits down on his hindquarters, looking confused by her sad tone before remembering who she was and hissing again.

Over the next half an hour the kitten lunged at her at least six times, his claws sharp and glinting but whenever he got within a few feet of her, he retreat, his tail flicking angrily in the air like a cracking whip.

Whenever Rachel would close her eyes in an attempt to sleep in her crouched position, the kitten would attack with his loud angry song.

Sighing heavily, she gets up, swaying gently in the dark night due to her utter exhaustion, and stumbles out of the barn.

It appears as if she won't be sleeping here tonight, the kitten hisses at her back and she merely waves him off, not having quite the amount of energy or patience to work up a smile for this difficult kitten.

Looking up, she finds the moon beginning to hide its slim, shimmering body from the sky, the dawning bell would be ringing in a few hours, and she wonders what they would do when they find her not there. With a sigh, she stumbles out of the barn without any particular grace or goal and walks sleepily to the only a Sat-ur-day, as Finn would say.

Sleep clings to her mind and makes her limbs drag slowly up the track of Finn's house; she just barely remembers to hide her wings by the time she reaches his doorstep.

She stands in front of the door for a long moment, half expecting it to open if she willed it enough to, it was far too early for Finn to be awake and let her in, and she couldn't come back to the barn with the guard beast attacking her every moment.

Groaning gently, she slips against the rough texture of the house and slides down to the ground, splaying her depleted limbs out in front of her.

* * *

><p>~~ X ~~<p>

Quinn wakes up quietly at 6:00 a.m. sharp, her eyelids flutter open and she grimaces at the ceiling above her. Over the night, Finn had laid his hands around her possessively, embracing her in a sweltering embrace that still managed to leave her feeling cold.

Groaning, she picks up Finn's limp arm and gingerly places it on his own side; she's never woken up in a good mood before, and unfortunately waking up beside her boyfriend doesn't change that much for her.

Finn snuggles into the bed sheets and Quinn almost smiles at the boy, he's a nice, respectable boy, her mother thinks he's a strong young man who would make handsome young boys, she supposes that's what made their relationship pass the test of time.

Leaning over, she runs her hand through his hair and places a soft kiss to his temple methodically. She's gotten used to his slobbering kisses and has even trained herself to enjoy it occasionally, her father likes him, and he has the final say on her happiness, so she figures she might as well try her hardest with him.

Whenever she imagines living out her future with him, she imagines her as a stay home mom, taking care of three children while Finn works at Burt's car repair, it isn't a bright future, but it could be worse and in this town, she's not going to be getting any better.

The clock ticks in the silent room and Quinn lies still, letting the first stray beams of light filter in through Finn's room before she finally gets up from bed.

Walking on the balls of her feet, she walks gracefully, not even letting drowsiness mess up her loveliness. She practically glides into the bathroom, diligently washing her face and her hands before letting herself actually look into the mirror.

She's wearing satin red pajama pants and a white t-shirt. The pajama pants are frayed at the edges and in some spots, where the cloth had been washed too frequently, the blood red satin fades into an innocent pink.

Her white T-shirt is anything but perfect and in any other situation, she would have thrown away the shirt, but it was comfortable, and this was just Finn.

The white shirt is crisp and clings to her gently, showing off her slight form nicely; however, on the left side of the shirt, spot onto her heart, lies an ugly black stain, tainting the shirt with its ugliness.

She has no idea how the stain had come onto her favorite sleeping shirt, she supposes it happened rather slowly since it would not come out no matter how badly she had scrubbed it.

Once out of the bathroom, she walks downstairs, skipping every other step in a rhythmic skip and lands gracefully on her feet at the base of the stairs. Her mind immediately fills her with lists of things of what a good girlfriend would do; or more specifically, what her mother has taught her to do. Mindlessly, she whips up pancakes and chocolate chips, humming a tune to herself, constantly trying to break the silence the room leaves her.

She brings out strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, and blackberries although she doubts Finn would even touch the berries or care how much work she put into cutting them, but she puts them out anyway for decoration.

After that, she sits down, her humming becomes disjointed as she forgets the rest of the tune in her head and the hum soon dies off along with the song, leaving her restless.

_The newspaper!_ Her mother always gets up and receives the paper before her father makes it downstairs, plopping it into his open hands with a small smile that he never cares to see.

Lunging towards the door, she opens it unceremoniously, and silently chastises herself for her moment of weakness. That's when she notices someone huddled at the Finn's porch step, no not someone,_ Rachel_.

She's huddled closely together, her knees are pulled up to her chest, face hidden in her legs. Her shoulders shiver violently, making a flash of pity fly through Quinn.

Quinn looks at her apprehensively, unsure of what to do, the Head Cheerio in her tells her to leave her there, or shoo her away; but a small part of her wants something different.

It's a strange portion of her that has hidden and grown quietly in the recess of her heart, and demands her to hold the girl closes and carry her away from the freezing cold.

"What are you doing here?" Her voice is neutral, this is the first time she's ever had a problem with being mean, her mind tells her to be the mean bitch she needs to be, but her heart tears itself apart and commands her to use the rusty compassion that's been collecting dust in the corner of her heart.

What she's left with is a monotonic voice, neither biting or kind, she silently curses her lack of ability to make decisions.

A small shiver trembles up the girl's spine and the girl jerks her head up in Quinn's direction.

Her large, ochre eyes hide behind her dark, drooping lashes and a tight grimace quirks at the edges of her lips, as if she were trying to smile through pain.

"Why are you here?" She says again, softer this time and Rachel stretches out, stumbling up, her eyes going unfocused slightly as she focuses on keeping her balance. As she gets up, Quinn notices that Rachel is no longer wearing her old, ugly dress, which isn't much of a surprise knowing that she was slushied, what's surprising to her is the fact that she's wearing_ her_ clothes.

Rachel is wearing _her _squeaky white flat shoes, _her_ black skirt that hangs off her slim waist and brushes the sun-kissed skin of her knees, and_ her_ favorite blouse.

_The clothes probably smell like her now_, her mind reminds her with a surprising lack of disgust. For no reason at all, Quinn's throat is suddenly dry and her lips part, she gulps dryly.

"Couldn't sleep, so I came here to see Finn" She says tiredly, her hand tangling through her brown locks. In that moment, all the kindness drains from Quinn as well as the blood in her face.

Of course she came here to see Finn, who else would she see, this is his house. Her lips curl into a snarl and the Head Bitch finally wins control over her body again; and finally drubbing the small palpitations in her heart telling her to be nice for once. Her mouth turns sour and her eyes are cold.

"He isn't here, so why don't you just go home to your little mushroom house, dwarf" She growls, her wrist flicks quickly as if to slam the door, but Rachel's faster than she is and catches it quickly.

"No need to feel hurt Quinn, I enjoy your presence just as much as anyone" Her voice has a bubbly lilt to it and she's beaming at her again, her eyes twinkling with unyielding fervor.

Quinn's head snaps back and she recoils from the girl, as if her words had slapped her in the face, crimson taints her porcelain cheeks and she grimaces. Clenching her jaw painfully tight, she sets her mouth into a controlled, straight line and narrows her eyes at the girl.

"I'm not hurt," She hisses quietly, but it doesn't even sound convincing to herself, having no idea how to react to this girl, she simply pulls away from the door and walks as far away from her as she can. "Finn your freak came to see you!" She yells upstairs and within moments the boy is bounding down the stairs, her heart sinks a little at that, maybe she's just selfish, but she used to her being the only thing to get him this excited.

It makes her feel…Inadequate.

As he runs past her, she grabs the collar of his shirt and yanks the boy back to her. Looking up at him, she notices that not only is his sleeping shirt backwards but also it is inside out.

A lazy grin stretches from his boyish cheeks and she smiles gently at the boy, copying the way her mother has taught her. Pink lips stretch into a nice smile, not too wide, because that would imply that she was too eager but not too small because that would be cold.

And the Fabray women are anything but cold, so her mother says.

He grins back, having no previous instructions; he bares his teeth into a childish grin. Vibrant red gums show wildly and his beady eyes squint up into his smile.

Quinn giggles politely, the way her mother has told her to do and leans up to kiss him, making sure to lean the two of them close to the door, knowing that Rachel would be there, watching them.

A little thrill trickles through her and makes her heart jump and her blood pound, she leans into the kiss, knowing that Rachel is watching and feeling jealous.

Quinn's eyelids flutter closed, her mind escaping her for a moment, and imagining that Rachel could be jealous 'cause _she_ wanted to kiss _Quinn,_ and not the other way around, the way it truly is.

When they part, Finn looks down at her as if she were a completely different person; she grins lightly and places a gentle hand on his chest. "Remember _that_ when you are hanging out with _her_" She really doesn't like feeling inadequate. Patting his chest, she slinks away from him, "don't be too long" she calls back.

Hazel eyes find themselves at the door, Rachel is staring at her with dark eyes, her ruby lips set apart slightly and Quinn feels a smirk twisting at her lips. "Eavesdrop much?" She murmurs darkly, and feels so proud of herself when the girl tilts her head, giving her a confused look that she doesn't even care that she had kissed Finn in front of her merely to get attention.

She plops herself down at the table and runs her hands over her pajama pants, getting out all the invisible wrinkles and crosses her legs prettily underneath her.

Her nails thrum impatiently against the wood table as she glares at the pancakes stacked on the plate, Manhands seriously came at the worst time possible, she hopes Finn can get rid of her quickly, so that they could finally eat.

Her stomach grumbles angrily and she eyes the pancakes again, its rude to eat before any one else has sat down at the table….but then again, Finn is rather distracted, if she can stuff a pancake down before he gets in here, she can pretend nothing ever happened.

Her hand rises hesitantly, and she's halfway made it to the warm stack of delicious pancakes by the time Finn comes back into the room, laughing, Quinn's hand shoots back into her lap, folding in front of her quickly.

Looking up, she finds Finn opening the door wide, his face tilted towards the ground as he laughs, furrowing her eyebrows; Quinn tilts to the side, trying to look to see what Finn is opening the door for.

_He didn't, he wouldn't._

Another voice joins into the laughter, at first hesitantly, but then turns into a full on guffaw.

_He did._

She groans, but still notices the difference between the two voices. Rachel's voice isn't as bubbly when she laughs, its lower and loud, bouncing off the walls powerfully.

Of course, Finn would invite _her_ into the house after everything Quinn did. Only he would be that dense. Rachel walks into the room and plops herself down on the seat across from Quinn, her wide chocolate eyes roam across the room, taking everything in.

Finn sits down beside Rachel; Quinn glares at him and hopes he can feel her fury. Finn glances at her and becomes ashen, while his beady eyes bulge; coughing into his hand, he attempts to deter Quinn

"Rachel was just telling me a joke about an evil cat that had been sailing to her all night," He says, scratching his head, Rachel blinks blankly before smiling up at the boy.

"The word is assailing, Finn, and it wasn't exactly a joke," She says encouragingly, as if she were only speaking for the pure purpose of enlightenment. But the boy only laughs again, his beady eyes squinting as he slaps the girl's back and Rachel stumbles into the chair rather dramatically.

Her whole presence looks unstable, as if she had no center gravity. With wide eyes, she sits down into the chair, her lips drawn into a concentrated line.

An awkward silence ensues as Finn contains his laughter, Quinn glares at the pancakes, and Rachel's eyes flicker between the two. Eventually, the cheerleader's hunger wins over her patience, with a groan; she glares at the girl sitting across from her.

"You aren't going to stay here are you?" She spits out, just barely containing the high whine in her voice.

Rachel looks up to her, looking rather lost. Quinn sighs and kneads her temples "I made breakfast and you kind of just stumbled in without an invitation so…" She waves her hand out of the door, hoping the girl would connect the dots, Rachel stares blankly at her hand.

"Actually, I invited her just now" Finn exclaims, fork and knife are held in his humongous hands like spears. Gritting her teeth, Quinn glares at her boyfriend

"But I only made breakfast for the two of us." Each words drips slowly from her mouth, weaving a punctuated thread. Anyone with the right sense of mind would have been able to get her point; even Rachel looks a little hurt.

A pained jolt shoots through her but she continues, Rachel came here for Finn. "You expect me to just jump up and make more on your spontaneous plans?" Quinn makes sure to break down every thing very slowly, making sure that her thickheaded boyfriend would finally get the hint.

Finn's rosy cheeks pale considerably and he begins to squirm in his seat, looking like a constipated child glued to his chair.

"I-I'll just stay in the kitchen…" Rachel's soft subdued voice floats between the feuding couple. Quinn glances up just in time to find her skirt flittering as Rachel flees the scene.

Quinn scowls while Finn shrugs and shovels pounds of pancakes into his mouth, with a sigh, Quinn finally picks up a pancake. Gritting her teeth, she grinds her knife against the soft flesh of the pancake and mercilessly cuts until its nothing but bits and pieces on her plate. Finn gets through his second filling when he finally sees his girlfriend brooding

"Honey?"

"Why did you have to invite _her_ here?" she finally snaps, "we were going to enjoy a nice breakfast together and now we have a homeless freak stowing away in our kitchen," She grumbles, stabbing the defenseless pancake again.

Honestly, she wasn't even upset about that, there was something about Rachel…it made her nervous. Her insides clench and flutter at the thought of the girl. She couldn't afford to be nervous around anybody, Finn and her are a shoe-in for Prom Queen, she's head of Celibacy club, head of the Cheerios.

Being one of the most popular girl in school is great, she can get away with anything, but it also means that anybody with a brain could potentially bring her down. Rachel is no different from anybody else; she just has a different approach.

Quinn glares at her boyfriend and her lips turn sour.

Syrup drips off Finn's chin and he looks like a petulant child as he pouts at her.

"So now I'm not allowed to have friends" He whines "You know, I am so sick of you controlling my every move, I already have people breathing down my back, I don't need by girlfriend telling me who to hang out with. I am capable of making my own decisions."

"Oh Finn don't even pretend, I do everything for you, because of me you are still on the football team, Mr. 'I need Glee to express myself'. I am one step short of dressing you, _sweetheart,_" She breathes out, looking at her nails. "Considering how you're dressed now, maybe I should start dressing you" Finn's cheeks tint crimson as he looks down at his inside out and backwards shirt.

Squirming in his chair, he mumbles something under his breath and Quinn's eyes flash to him. "What did you just say?" She hisses and he looks up at her, his russet eyes stare at her with a dull rage.

"Sometimes I wish you were more like Rachel," He grumbles again, but drops his eyes from hers like the coward he is. "I don't have to feel like I'm walking on eggshells when I'm around her…she makes me feel good about myself" Quinn jolts back into her chair as a flash of white hot fury burns through her, echoed with the dull throb of despair.

A part of her wants to feel upset but she refuses to give Finn that pleasure, so she bites the inside of her cheek and smirks at him. Her hazel eyes glaze over with overdone frostiness and Finn sighs and gets up from his seat. "I don't have to deal with this" he grumbles and storms out of the kitchen. Distantly, she can hear him stomping up the stairs like a boy throwing a tantrum.

He's probably gone up to play one of his stupid shooting games. Quinn tries to contain her eye roll, easily shooing her guilt away from this matter. He gets irritated easily but it's not like it's a true threat to their relationship.

As if, he wouldn't even dream of it, sooner or later, he will come back on all fours with those sad, puppy dog eyes to appease her anger.

Quinn however, doesn't have a stupid shooting game to let go of her anger, frowning, she stabs at her massacred pancake restlessly. Her cheeks flush with anger and she lunges up smoothly and walks into the kitchen.

"What's your game Manhands?" She feels her lips twist with what she knows is a terrifying sneer.

It's like a chain reaction, or a circle, Quinn picks at Finn, who then spins around and yells back at Quinn. Now it's back where it began with Quinn who'll lash out at the next available person, and the chain goes on.

Rachel sits on the counter, her tan legs swinging gently and her fingers tapping rhythmically on the counter as she plops a few forgotten berries into her mouth.

"Why hello Quinn, I am assuming that you are talking to me since you have called me this before, although I must inform you that I have extremely soft hands. Now in regards to 'my game' I'm not quite sure what you are referring to" The girl manages to say in all one breath, and plops another ripe, red berry into her mouth. She holds it in her pearly white teeth before biting it.

It's red juices stain her lips and Quinn watches, mildly distracted as the girl's cherry red tongue peeks out and runs along the expanse of her pouty, crimson lips.

Rachel looks at her oddly after a moment and Quinn shakes her head as her jaw clenches fiercely, her anger comes back in full force and nearly astounds her.

"Don't act innocent with me Freak," Quinn grits out slowly "I know what you're up to"

The brunette merely cocks her head to the side, her ochre eyes twinkling with a constant inquisitiveness that makes Quinn's insides churn with doubt.

"Okay, so you came to Finn's house and slept on his doorstep for God knows how long, for no particular reason at all other than to have a little_ chat_ with your buddy Finn?" Her voice goes dangerously low as she speaks. Anyone could find the danger in being alone in a room with Quinn Fabray, everyone except Rachel. Said girl is sitting with crossed legs on Finn's counter, her hand propped gently under her chin, as she listens intently to Quinn's every word.

"Yes, exactly! I'm glad you understand" The little brunette exclaims, her eyes somehow finding a way to look even more delighted.

Quinn's eyebrows furrow deeply and a deep scowl carves her expression with _deep_ irritation. "You're going to get wrinkles if you keep frowning like that, an Eld- I mean, a teacher of mine once said that if you keep an expression still for two long, it could stick like that, which is quite silly if you ask m-"

"Shut up!" Quinn's resolve slips entirely, her cool façade falls and the bubbling fury burns across her flesh. "Are you _that_ stupid? Or has all the blood gone to trying to keep that colossal nose of yours circulated" Rachel's smile slips immediately and turns completely upside down into the biggest frown Quinn's ever seen. Rachel's usually bright chocolate eyes widen and glaze over with unshed tears.

"It's funny that you call me stupid when everyone knows people's noses are made out of cartilid-"

"Shut up manhands," Quinn mutters dangerously, her entire body has begun to shake with rage. She knows it's ridiculous to get so infuriated, she's dealt with people trying to steal her boyfriend and acting innocent about it. But every time she tries to calm herself down, she thinks about the fact that Rachel is the one who's made her loose her cool. Rachel, the one who's stealin

g her boyfriend, humiliated her in front of the entire school, and attacked her from the inside. "Don't treat me like the fool, you are up to something Freak, you're trying to make me slip up but I'm smarter than that!" her sentences are cut short as her mind spins with paranoia.

The expression on Rachel's faces changes slowly, but Quinn doesn't notice it as she splutters out any accusations that jump from her mind. The frown that had consumed Rachel's lips slowly changes from a gloomy show of self-deprecation to one of pity. Smoldering chocolate eyes burn with the generosity that blazes wildly in her heart; but Quinn's far too gone to apprehend this change. In fact, she's so distracted with herself that she doesn't even notice when Rachel jumps off the counter and slinks towards her.

It's only when the soft feel of gentle hands melting into the skin of her cheek does Quinn finally notice Rachel and her mouth clamps shut a loud_ smack_. All her power is swept away with the simple gesture, leaving her weak in the knees and breathless.

Her eyelids flutter and with a shaky breath, she looks at Rachel's effulgent smile. A smooth thumb brushes Quinn's cheek gently, leaving a hot trail of tingles. Warmth pools into Quinn's frostbitten heart; it's the warmth Quinn's always yearned for. But it's too hot, she's melting and it's only a matter of time before she'll fall apart.

"You have far too much animosity for your own good," She states softly, but Quinn doesn't miss the incredulous lilt to Rachel's voice and it makes her stomach flip. "It has to be _exhausting_ to hold so much anger. Tell me, aren't you tired?" the girl sounds far too curious for this situation to be real. Quinn stares blankly at the strange girl whose hand is both blazingly painful and soothing at the same time.

This girl, who has no sense of personal space, who breathes out Quinn's flaws so easily and takes her only anchor, all the while acting as if she's doing Quinn a favor.

Her lip is trembling before she can even think of stopping it, and she looks away, feeling a flush creep up her neck and paints her cheeks with shame.

_What happened to Miss Cold and Calculated? Miss Control? Hmm?_

A single tear rolls from where it swelled in hazel eyes and slowly flows down the smooth expanse of her cheek and lands on the girl's thumb. Rachel tears her eyes from Quinn's face and glues themselves to the wet path from Quinn's left eye to her thumb. Quinn watches as Rachel frowns again and she could practically see the gears grinding in her head.

Ruby lips pop open into a slight "O" when the girl finally makes whatever connection she was looking for. "You're crying aren't you?" She murmurs, and Quinn has to laugh despite herself because it's such a stupid thing to say, of course she's crying.

With a sniffle, she tears herself from Rachel's gentle hands and clumsily slides her guard over herself like a safety blanket. She walks herself and her battered pride away from the girl.

There's nothing to say really, she doesn't know how to explain herself. All she knows is that she came into the kitchen with a steely mind, and came out a blubbering mess.

Somehow, something backfired on Quinn, but she's far too tired to try to figure it out now. So she leaves Rachel alone in the kitchen, with a strange expression on her face mixed between longing and sadness, just another confusing thing to add to the list of things that confuse Quinn. A list that had been much shorter prior to meeting Rachel.

Walking half in a dream, she collapses onto the couch and her eyelids almost immediately glue themselves shut. Within seconds, she is asleep, looking and feeling nothing like the Quinn Fabray her parents raised her to be.

~~ X ~~

Once Rachel is completely certain that Quinn is asleep, she falls onto the soft cushions of the couch and repositions herself to be at the maximum amount of comfort; coincidentally, right beside Quinn's sleeping form.

She watches silently as the girl transforms into a stranger. Furrowed brows relax, her pursed lips slowly uncurl, and part slightly as her breathing goes from shallow to slow and deep.

The blonde looks like a completely different person when she's sleeping, without the rage contorting her beautiful face, she looks peaceful. Her blonde hair cascade down her shoulders, neatly brushed and straightened, but a few tendrils of golden locks escape the smothering control and frame her delicate features in a messy curl. Without the girl's aggressive emotions carving her features, she looks so docile that she could be one of her own, an angel like Rachel.

Before she can command herself to stop, her hand is already moving to touch the girl. She brushes the girl's hair from her forehead and rubs her back in long circles. Quinn shifts and Rachel's hand shoots back into her lap and she chastises herself for never learning.

She should have known not to touch Quinn after her first encounter with the girl, but she couldn't help herself. Quinn had been working herself into a rage, she just looked like she needed somebody to hug her, and she sighs at the thought.

Humans are so complicated, they look like they want something but once it happens, and then they act as if they had wanted something completely different.

Her observatory skills may be proficient but she's no mind reader.

Quinn sighs in her sleep and shifts towards Rachel ever so slightly; the bridge of the girl's nose nuzzles against Rachel's leg complacently.

Rachel remains perfectly still, making sure not to give into the human's confusing antics. However, Rachel loses all sense of control when she hears the sleeping girl take a deep breath and nuzzle in closer, mumbling something that sounds like "peaches" sleepily under her breath.

With a happy smile, Rachel's hand tangles in the girl's hair while the other wraps around her shoulders, letting out all the affection that had been building up over the past 24 hours.

It felt good, like singing after a particularly strenuous day of picking berries in the Angel's world.

That's when Finn walks strolls in from the front door, his dopey smile back onto his face where it belongs. He pauses when he reaches Rachel,

"You didn't kill her did you?" He asks, completely serious and Rachel gasps in horror.

"Finn! I shudder at the idea of acting out in such violence towards another living being. In fact I couldn't fathom thinking about thinking about it," Finn blinks at that and shakes his head "I must ask you to drop the subject immediately." He simply shrugs and collapses onto the chair across from her.

"You know, I've never seen Quinn so peaceful," he mumbles but he isn't looking at her, he stares at his fingers that curl on the arm of the chair. Rachel's brow furrows slightly and she strokes Quinn's head soothingly.

"I think I wore her out," She says gently, looking down at the girl in her arms, "I'm always doing the wrong thing around her," She murmurs, mostly to herself and Finn sighs in agreement

"Join the club," he mumbles, but it sounds more out of spite and Rachel looks up at the boy. His brows are furrowed and a petulant pout is contorts his usually dopey lips; after another moment, he sighs and rakes his hand over his head. "Listen, I'd hate to say this but I think you should leave. You know, because Quinn hates it and I'd rather not spend the rest of my Saturday fighting with her." Finn says, looking guilty, Rachel shrugs off the hurt and covers up her wounds with a magnificent smile.

"No problem, Finn" She untangles herself from Quinn's limp body but hesitates slightly once she's free, half expecting Finn to jump up and tell her to stay.

He doesn't.

Sighing, she lowers her gaze to the most mystifying and fascinating creature she's ever had the chance to encounter. "Goodbye Quinn," She hums pleasantly and watches as the girl's eyebrows furrow gently as Rachel stands up.

The girl stretches to her full height, groaning when she finds nothing but air, her arm falls and covers her eyes and she's back to a deep sleep. A hopeful _thump_ rattles from her heart and through her chest; maybe she still has a chance to befriend the girl. "Goodbye Finn" She chirps and walks from the house.

Rachel stands in front of the barn with pursed lips, she knows that the second she enters the barn, the little black and white devil will attack. Hanging her head, she walks into what has become her home and awaits the certain assault.

The moment she is in the secluded haven, her wings spring from where they lay hidden for hours in her back. They rip through Quinn's shirt with a clean slash and stretches out all the kinks and knots that come from being cramped in a small space for too long.

Almost a second later, a ferocious snarl pierces the calm of the afternoon and with a glance up, Rachel finds a flurry of black and white racing towards her with teeth bared and claws unsheathed. However, like every other time, once the kitten reaches a foot of her, it backs off with a whip of its tail and a pathetic hiss.

Rachel falls to her knees and lets her wings droop into the hay as she thinks. The movement makes the kitten jump back and swat at the air. "You know, if we are going to be living in the same house, I do believe we should know each other's names" Maybe it's the absolute lack of sleep she's had or the disappointment of today, but she's trying to make small talk with a cat. "My name's Rachel" She giggles as the kitten paces around her hand, staring at the stretched appendage as if it were a puzzle he needed to solve. "And you're name is…Well, we both know I can't talk to cats or read minds and I've never been very good at names so…" She heaves a sigh and stares at the kitten as if he were supposed to fill in the blanks of the conversation. Well, now that she's brought up the topic, she can't very well end it so abruptly under good conscience.

So she thinks of the first thing on her mind. "Congratulations, your name is now Berry"

At that, the kitten sits down and gives her a long, wide-eyed stare that reminds her of Quinn. And she's acting on instinct again, her hand juts out and rests gently on the kitten's head. Berry hisses and grabs her hand with his claws; Rachel winces but keeps her hand on him, and brushes her thumb over the bridge of his nose every so often.

Despite her lack of knowledge in the Human's world, she did not come unprepared; she had read piles of books on the animal kingdom.

One thing that she has learned over these books is that animals will lash out when frightened. Maybe she was naïve to transport the same knowledge of animals to humans; but then again, weren't they all simply evolved animals?

Berry freezes in her hands, his dilated eyes fluctuate between slivers and full moons and his painful hostage on her hand lessens slightly. Crimson lips stretch into a triumphant smile and she moves her other arm to scratch behind his ears. His eyelids flutter ever so slightly and then he's leaning into her touch as another sound comes from deep within his throat. She hesitates for a moment before realizing that he is purring, she responds with a soft crooning hum and leads the kitten into her arms.

His head nuzzles into the crook of her neck and he pads her shoulder, she runs her hand over his silky soft fur and hums for him. Within minutes, Berry is curled up on her chest, breathing deeply with sleep. She hums again and scratches behind his ear "Yeah, you were just scared." She murmurs and lays in the hay with the kitten curled up in her arms until the harsh rays of sunlight dim into a cool night air breeze.

With Berry in her arms, Rachel steels her new objective. Rachel was going to befriend Quinn Fabray no matter how badly the girl scratched.

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><p><strong>Edit<strong>: I wanna clear this up right now. Quinn has not slept with Finn. I know I had Finn finding Quinn's undergarments in his bedroom but honestly, who hasn't had a sleep over and accidentally left your extra undergarments? Am I the only one whose had that awkward conversation to get them back? I know I'm writing for maybe a specific group who understands what I'm trying to say. Ahem. This is also set in season 1. In the show, episode 2 I believe, Quinn is yelling at Finn about Prom.

Thank you Unknown reviewer for your criticism, it is greatly appreciated. But I'll add a note to your review since you are anonymous. Keep in mind that this is an AU fic. Not everything is going to be perfectly aligned with with the show, there are minor changes to this fic that make it work that cannot and will not be in the show. Thank you


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

**To Unknown reviewer**.

I looked at the scene of Quinn waking up in Finn's bed as it was in season 2. Finn and Quinn sleeping in the same bed and *cuddling* but not actually doing anything...But then again, my sister says that they had just finished having sex in that scene so maybe I'm just wrong in all ways.

Anyways I will have to mention a few things. First, this is Season 1 AU so I may use some of Glee's scenes but mess around with it to fit my story and I may not. Second, I am writing Quinn's parents in characterization to the show and not to stereotypical Christian parents. Remember the Fabray home is strict but also lives under a code of ignorance. How else would Quinn have gotten pregnant with Puck in the show and get close to Finn in the hot tub if her parents were exactly like the stereotype? Finally, Most of what you said (about the clothes) is a part of what I have planned and have already thought through so pat yourself on the back for noticing problems ahead!

So thank you for mentioning these things and I hope I have explained everything I can possibly can :)

Also, sorry for the wait D: life sucks when it gets in the way of important things like fanfiction hehe no I kid, I kid...but yeah sorry for the wait

Also, You recieve cookies and my congrats if you can spot the literary devices I have so geekily placed in this fic.

Also...enjoy ;)

I love reviews ಠ_ಠ

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><p>There have been rumors.<p>

Rumors of a human...here...in _their_ world, a human in black and red.

Whispers, hushed and confused, have reached every angel's ears willing to listen.

Whispers about Rachel being missing (what if she doesn't come back?) and then there is this human lurking about in their world...The way the Elders tell it makes it seem like a nightmare has broken from its dream world prison and thrust itself into reality, like this is the end of life as they know it.

Brittany doesn't like thinking about those things, she prefers to sit in the tallest tree branches and talk to her animal friends, she doesn't want to think about those paintings in the hut. Black and red paintings strewn about of humans crouched and looking more like animals, snarling and beastly

Brittany whimpers and looks back down to her hand, expelling those bad thoughts from her mind. Her fingertips touch her cheek, shakily removing the tracks of her tears that now trail down her heated cheeks, flushed with fear and other unexpected raw emotions.

A tickling sensation drags her eyes down to the dainty ladybug venturing across her skin with its soft doting feet.

A small hint of a smile graces her lips as she looks at the insect dancing across her fingertips. This is the black and red she loves; they are the colors of the silly ladybugs in thier red polka-dot dresses and black dance shoes, the colors of the one that now dances and flutters her wings across Brittany's pale arm. They are warm and soft. Inviting.

Underneath the tree, a stick snaps. It was a simple sound and in any other situation, well she would have thought nothing of it. But things have been tense around here ever since the angels started noticing Rachel's disappearance. Brittany immediately cups her hand over the ladybug, to keep it safe, and jumps up from her position on the tree branch.

Shifting around the thick trunk and the twisting branches, she looks to the ground and sees black and red.

Raven-black hair all pulled back into a tight ponytail and satin red clothes; charcoal eyes and ruby lips. Brittany bites her lower lip as the human girl prowls, an apple in her hands and its sweet juices dribbling down her chin as she unknowingly traps Brittany in her tree.

With a huff, this mysterious red and black girl collapses at the roots of the exact tree Brittany has scampered onto, leaving her trapped and looking down at the odd creature.

Unfortunately, in that exact moment that she is looking down, her wings brush against the prickly leaves that surround her and making her shiver from the odd scratching sensation and coincidentally catches the human's attention.

The girl's sharp gaze snaps up to the tree and her jaw falls, completely unhinged. Those dark charcoal eyes widen as they flicker quickly over Brittany, sitting in all her winged glory. In reality, there was no sense in trying to hide, the human girl had found her.

Those angry black eyes had zeroed onto her with a frightening amount of intensity, making hiding an indefinite impossibility; however, that didn't stop Brittany from trying.

The moment the human girl stood up (after stumbling slightly on a root and glaring petulantly at it) and looked up at Brittany, the winged angel quickly held her little ladybug closer and ducked behind the thick tree trunk for cover.

"Hey! You there, come down here" The girl demands but Brittany remains hidden behind her tree, refusing to move an inch.

"I'm not here, please go away," She cries at the human, just to solidify her lack of presence. The girl huffs and kicks the tree in a fit of anger, which must have hurt as the girl's face continued to twitched afterwards.

"I can see you," She says hotly and Brittany readjusts her wings so that they are hiding better behind the tree. There was a brisk sigh. "I still see you, just come down!" The girl is gritting her teeth now and she really looks angry since her face is all red; Brittany really doesn't want to come down now.

"No! You'll hurt me"

"Just come down here! I won't hurt you damn it!" the girl snaps and stomps her foot, and Brittany didn't know better, she doesn't want to upset anybody, angel or not and the girl did say she wasn't going to harm her…Who was she to judge the validity of someone she hasn't met? With a sigh, she jumps from the tree, her wings catching the air and slowing the fall so that she could land gracefully on her feet.

The ladybug in her hand crawls through her closed fingertips, trying to get a good look at the beast that wears her innocent colors and tarnishes them. Once Brittany was on the ground, she cowered until she was backed up against the tree; although, now that she was closer to the human, she couldn't help but notice some of the flaws in the Elder's descriptions of humans.

Firstly, there were no fangs extended past those ruby lips, and though her eyes were rather dark, they didn't look quite as soulless as the Elders described. Another thing is that humans aren't all that big, angels describe them as giant beasts and this girl is a few inches shorter than her.

She didn't know what to think of this, a part of her wanted to get over being scared of the girl and kiss her on the cheek like she would do to anyone; but everyone was making such a big deal about this girl not to mention all those stories.

She didn't know what to think, so naturally, she stopped thinking all together. Her focus is immediately drawn to the squirming ladybug in her hands and she makes a bridge from her hands so that the ladybug may walk freely among her limbs.

Though she was focused on her ladybug, Brittany couldn't help but notice that the girl really wasn't speaking to her despite her practically pulling Brittany from the trees to "talk".

She was just staring and shifting kind of awkwardly and almost sulking but mostly she just kept staring at her wings. Every time Brittany would move them, those black eyes would bulge as if trying to escape her eye sockets.

Finally, the silence got really boring and the ladybug no longer entertained her with its ticklish movements

"Do you wanna touch 'em?" She says finally, flapping her wings delightfully and watching as the odd wingless girl reacted. The girl opened her mouth as if to speak but all that came out was "Urng" so she snapped her mouth closed quickly and nodded fervently instead.

Giggling, Brittany leans down and kneels into the soft grass, her head moving down and almost touching her knee as her wings stretch out to their longest extent. The girl makes another strange sound and runs her hands over her wings, just inches from brushing the delicate feathers. Brittany has never been an overly patient angel, so after a long moment of the human almost touching her wings, she finally just extends her wings into the girl's hands.

The human jumps back as if bitten by some venomous creature. But with a deep calming breath, the human settles down enough to tentatively brush the feathers.

A pleasant tingling sensation shot down Brittany's spine before sparking hungrily across the rest of skin. She sighs softly as the human grows braver and strokes the broad part of her ivory wing with the soft, slightly sweaty part of her palm.

The human begins to ruffle her wings, running her fingers through the upper feathers and scratching the under feathers softly with the tip of her nail; Brittany's never had somebody pet her like a kitten before but she decides she likes it as the human hits a particularly sensitive part of her wings and she purrs softly at the sensation.

She's not one for purring, but she thought it was appropriate since the girl _was_ petting her.

"Oh…" The girl breathes and retracts her hands, Brittany watches as the girl rubs her hands against the fabric of her red and white skirt nervously and feels a little pang in her chest. She hadn't meant to act weird, sighing, she sits back and watches as the human fidgets.

This is not what she imagined her first meeting with a human would be like…Well, she never really imagined meeting a human before today but since today she had always thought that it would end up being bloody.

But the girl looked more frightened of her than she was of the human, it was weird. She was about to stand up to leave or something, as the silence was heavy and kind of uncomfortable when a soft grumbling sound emitted from the human's stomach.

Immediately, Brittany jumps to the girl, causing the girl to gasp and throw her hands up in surprise, and puts her ear to the girl's stomach. Her fingers tighten around the soft fabric of the girl's shirt as she listens closely

"What was _that_?" She asks as another low grumbling sound reverberates through her ear.

"W-what? My stomach?" The girl asks, sounding somewhat hysterical as another growl rumbles after the girl's question. "Are you fucking with me? Is this a joke?" The girl curses.

"F-uck…that's an odd word…what does it mean?" She asks and moves her ear from the girl's stomach to look into the human's black eyes. "No! no wait, answer my first question!" She jitters, her eyes sparkling delightfully.

The girl wraps her tanned arms around her stomach and steps back, the nervousness finally draining from her expression as the girl is overcome with the ridiculous and unnecessary feeling of being ridiculed.

"It means I'm fucking starved, I haven't had anything but apples since I got here 'cause your people keep hiding from me" She mutters, her voice becoming brash even as her hands still occasionally fidget with her skirt.

"Oh…So you're hungry? Is that supposed to happen? That's weird!" She giggles and pokes the girl's stomach "Is that like a human thing or something?" She can honestly say she's never heard that loud grumbling from _her_ stomach…but then again she's eaten breakfast, lunch, and dinner at the same time every single day. _And_ she wasn't human. Perhaps it was only something humans submitted to.

The girl is scowling when Brittany looks up in her face again, her cheeks are tinted pink and she grits her teeth.

_Such an odd creature_, she thinks and grabs the girl's wrist as she begins to drag her home. The girl leans back and fights her grasp but Brittany's bigger than the girl and happily tugs the girl's resistant form along. "Well come on then!" She says excitedly as the smell of cooking food fills her nose.

* * *

><p>~~ X ~~<p>

The wind whistles through the trees and taps against the thick glass of Finn's car as he waits for his girlfriend. His fingertips thrum gently against his thigh as he stares at the rain pelting down on the window shield.

The rain distorts his view of the world outside his warm car, blurring together the lines and colors into different schemes.

Sighing, he lets his head roll over to where his girlfriend stands.

Quinn is standing right outside the door, nodding solemnly with her lips stretched into a thin line.

She looks up at a tall, bulky man with fair blonde hair and partial lips that twist into hurtful sneers. He leans against the closed door and talks sternly to Quinn; the steel cords of his muscular arms twitch as he folds them across his chest, gently rising and falling with his every breath.

Finn shudders and looks back to his girlfriend, a much prettier and much less terrifying sight. That man is Russell Fabray, and is the scariest person that he has ever met, and that's saying something considering the fact that he is dating Quinn.

After a long minute, Quinn's head finally stops nodding and she looks up at her father with squinted eyes. Russell's lips twist into a grimace, a strong hand untwines itself from admonishing Quinn, comes up, and rakes gently through his thick, blonde hair.

His other hand lifts in the air like a king calling attention to his kingdom, even from here Finn can see Quinn tremble. With a heaving sigh, Russell flicks his raised hand and waves the girl away.

As he turns away, his piercing gaze slides over to Finn, his sour lips contort with barely concealed contempt. The boy within Finn trembles at the gaze and he fidgets under the haughty gaze of the strong-willed man, but something else wiggles free from his childish fear. It writhes in his chest and shoots a cool wave over his heated, flustered mind. It grows greedily in his chest.

Russell is a terrifying man, but a part of Finn wants to be like him. To stand strong and unmoving among a crowd without boyish bashfulness cracking his resolve. To be a leader. Straightening, Finn manages to clench his jaw the way he's seen Quinn do so many times before and meets the man's gaze.

But merely seconds after meeting his gaze, his boyish flush returns to his cheeks and he squirms under the man's unwavering gaze. With his bravery bashed and battered, he meekly drops his gaze and stares at the car door, slumping heavily with defeat.

The sound of the car door whipping open breaks Finn from his gaze as he glances to Quinn.

The cold air bursts through the warm, protective bubble of his heated car and whistles loudly before the surrounding sound of the door closing silences it. Quinn slips into the seat, shivering gently and rubbing her slick, flushed hands over the raised, wet skin of her arms.

"What was that about?" He murmurs gently, cranking up the heater as his car quietly roars back to life. Quinn groans and leans towards the window, her breath fogging up the glass as the car slowly pulls them away from the house.

"Nothing" She says grimly

"No really, I-I wanna know" Finn stutters, and straightens in his seat, attempting to be assertive. Quinn whips her head back, her hazel eyes glinting angrily at him, pink lips twist into a familiar scowl and Finn squirms under the gaze. "Sorry" he mutters and turns his attention back to the road. "I'm just concerned," he murmurs to himself as he keeps his eyes on the road.

Quinn sighs again; her hand flutters towards him momentarily and grasps his hand gently in an unspoken apology before slumping limply into her lap. Finn's lips quirk upwards towards his girlfriend but a tiny flicker of resentment burns within him.

Quinn never actually apologizes, at least, not that he can remember. It's always unspoken and implied, leaving him to grasp at the words that are never said.

"I suppose my Dad woke up this morning and decided that he was still angry with me for staying over at your house" Her eyes glide over and meet his through the mirror, he is quick to look away.

"But you told me that he was fine with it" He murmurs hurriedly as he throws all of his energy into driving. Quinn sighs and brushes a nimble finger over the small goose bumps covering her pale thigh peeking out from the Cheerios uniform.

"He was fine with me staying over as long as your mom was present _at all times_." Quinn says heatedly as she rolls her eyes and looks out of the window, the flow of conversation stops as she watches the rain pour down on the glass for a long moment. "I guess my Mom saw your mom at a salon or something. Apparently your mom leaving the house for a few hours puts _my_ head on the chopping block," She says in a breathy whisper.

"But we didn't even _do _anything," He grumbles automatically, the same old line of disappointment slipping out without a thought. Quinn's eyes flash at him in warning and he sighs and drops his eyes back to the road, mumbling "Scary Quinn" quietly to himself.

"I just hate being babied," She breathes out, and turns her head away from him to stare out at the pouring rain, trying to hide her moment of vulnerability from him. "They treat me like I'm going to put the family to shame the moment they stop controlling everything"

He sighs and looks out blankly at the road. He's heard this all before.

"Well, why don't you just tell them that" He sighs, causing Quinn to laugh bitterly. Finn's lips just tighten, it can almost be scripted. Quinn's head tilts back into the head rest as her expression squints with mirth, but he knows better as her voice is too dry and thick to be real.

"Right, cause that'll work" Finn just shrugs and looks at Quinn, "Why don't you walk up to my father and try to tell him what to do," She says with finality, "Tell me how it goes" She says finally, glancing at her nails nonchalantly. With a sour frown, Finn turns away from her and towards to road; there was no way he would win that argument.

The two of them sit in silence for a long time; the only sound coming from the heavy pitter pat of the pelting rain and Finn's fingers thrumming anxiously against the steering wheel.

He watches through his peripheral vision as Quinn relaxes into her seat, her head lolling back into the head cushion, revealing the delicate definition of her neck. A soft sigh whispers past her pretty lips, making Finn shift uncomfortably in his seat.

Admittedly, he has never been good at being subtle, or multi-tasking, so looking through his peripheral vision meant blatantly staring and disregarding the road completely.

It is only at Quinn's screech that Finn's attention is jostled back onto the road, his jittery foot smashes on the break before even knowing what was happening.

A flash of a memory flickers underneath his eyelashes: A cracked windshield, his mother screaming, and a uniformed man rolling over the side of his hood. But before such a crash could occur in real life, the car groans from the sudden lack of speed and both Quinn and Finn lurch forward in their seats as the car's wheels scream into an abrupt stop.

The two of them sit in complete silence and stare in shock at Rachel, who stands in her own world a few feet from the car.

Her expression is far from pleasant, her eyes screwing shut in pain as her lips turn down into a sour grimace. Her hands clutch desperately at the fabric of her stomach, squirming anxiously as her face pinches again.

She teeters on unsteady ground as her dark eyelashes flutter open. They flicker and flutter as if brought to life, revealing little flashes of the whites of Rachel's eyes.

Quinn's breath comes out ragged as they watch. Finn turns to her with furrowed brows and purses his lips as he attempts to process what is happening. So naturally, he turns to Quinn for answers.

Quinn is sitting painfully straight; her shoulders are tense while a hand grabs the leather seat beneath her desperately.

Another hand is grasping the car door ferociously, as if at any moment she was going to dash outside to check if Rachel was okay. He almost expected her to, but she doesn't. Her grip just grows tighter and tighter until her knuckles become as white as bone from the force of it.

Even as Rachel's chocolate, bleary eyes finally whirl back into view Quinn looks as if she is seconds from bolting from her seat.

Finn purses his lips and shies away from Quinn, he's seen girls who look just like that in movies, usually moments later the girls start hyperventilating and screaming.

He shudders and turns back to the road; Quinn doesn't freak out, like, ever. She can be a multitude of things at the same time, like a girl on the swings. She'll go from angry to sad, then to happy and occasionally affectionate and then swings back in a sweeping force to murderous. She's really good at that, Quinn can swing all day, but she doesn't freak out, she'll never freak out no matter what he throws at her.

He purses his lips and shifts away from her. Except for _now_, apparently.

Rachel's gaze finally finds the car that had almost run her over and an old, delirious grin curls at the edges of her lips.

A shaky hand comes up to wave at him and Quinn's jaw just clenches tightly in response.

Finn shakes his head and chuckles at the girl's strange antics as he puts the car back into drive.

"What are you doing?" Quinn murmurs through pale, bloodless lips and he turns to stare at his girlfriend blankly.

Quinn's grip has loosened completely, leaving her hands looking limp and tired in her lap as they attempt to flush back with color. Though her cheeks are still pale, her expression seems to have momentarily revived itself in the image of the Quinn Fabray he knows well.

"Um...Driving to school?" He asks hesitantly, at times like these Quinn's already short fuse sparks a lot more quickly than usual.

"Yes and do you remember the girl you almost ran over practically dying in the street a moment ago?" Quinn murmurs sweetly, her tone dripping slowly like maple syrup. Finn silently bristles at the tone, whenever Quinn gets angry she tends to speak to him like a child.

Huffing he glances to the sidewalk where Rachel is now walking steadily through the pouring rain; she didn't look like she was dying, sure she looked a bit sick a minute ago but ago but she was walking fine now.

He raps his hand against the window in an attempt to gesture to the perfectly fit girl walking to school.

"She's fine Quinn," He says automatically, and Quinn's gaze follows his hand to where Rachel walks.

The girl, unbeknownst of anyone's gaze, splashes childishly through the puddles and grins wildly as the water clings to her skin and clothes.

Finn grins widely when Quinn doesn't say anything after that and silently whoops in victory at having avoided another bitter and pointless argument.

Quinn settles into the seat and tips her head towards the window where the small brunette plays innocently in her field of view.

"Rachel is still wearing my clothes," Quinn states softly, catching Finn off guard in comparison to the angry glint to her voice merely moments ago.

Finn glances out of his mirror and sees Rachel's reflected image showing a bright albeit pained smile, glancing down he notices the familiar skirt and shirt he had given her on Friday.

His head began to twist and throb with theories that could explain why she would still be wearing the same clothes, but all the thoughts began to muddle his mind with painful, exerting explanations. And so, he decided that it would be easiest to simply not think about the possibly sad explanations as to why Rachel is still wearing the same outfit and shrugs it off completely, leaving his mind safe once again from troublesome thought.

"Huh" He grunts non-commitedly and shifts his gaze back to the road; out of sight out of mind.

Quinn moves her head at the sound and fights to regain his attention; although he does his best to avoid eye contact, eventually Quinn wins and he submits to her. With a bowed head, he glances into her eyes and sees unusually soft, compassionate eyes glimmering where cold, hardened hazel orbs of eyes once lay.

With a sigh, he squirms and looks back over to Rachel. "What do you want me to do about it?" He whines, making Quinn huff and roll her eyes.

She reaches into her Cheerios pocket, grabs a silky, golden purse, and begins to rifle through the small pockets. A small smile curves at the edges of her lips as she pulls out six crisp 20-dollar bills and pushes it towards him.

Finn recoils from the stranger sitting in front of him as his eyebrows recede into his hairline. He's seen mood swings before but he's never known any this bad before; first she was angry, and then she was an anxious stranger, then back to angry, to somewhat calm, and now to this giving stranger with cheery smiles and gleaming eyes.

He blinks and rubs his eyes as if to wake him from some sort of dream, Quinn has never really been in the "giving" mood, especially for people on the blacklist; and he has never seen her like this, it was as if a halo were gleaming over her head.

At Finn's ongoing silence, Quinn quirks an eyebrow and cocks her head all the while urging the money towards him

"You don't have to worry, this is nothing but petty change, my parent's won't even notice the difference," She says softly.

It may have been the uncharacteristic voice, or Quinn's overall strange personality change, or maybe even a bit of Quinn's jolly mood rubbing at his need for competition. But whatever the reason is, he finds himself jerking his head away snobbily and telling her he didn't need her petty change.

"I have money!" He practically shouts, and shoves his hands into his pockets, searching for his wallet. He slips out the small black object as his lips form a hard and defined line, quickly snapping it open.

His expression instantly droops as he finds a crumpled up five dollar bill in the corner of his wallet, money that had meant to be his lunch money. A bit of his pride dies and falls painfully to his feet as his eyes harden considerably, and before he knows it Quinn has slipped her clean pile of money into his open hands.

With a groan, he inwardly growls at Quinn's sudden kindness and takes the money. With warm, flushed cheeks, he feels like nothing but a silly little boy beside Quinn.

He doesn't like it when Quinn is the good guy...girl. They were like the good cop bad cop of High school. She was irrationally angry most of the time and scared everybody into obeying while he smiles and wins over people's hearts.

That's just the way things worked, and they worked pretty damn well, but now Quinn is acting like…this…all sweet smiles and throwing money at blacklisters.

He can't take it, "why are you acting like this? You are the one who put her on the blacklist and now you are offering to buy her clothes…and…and you're worried about her. If I didn't know better I would say you actually cared about the girl" He grumbles hotly and fidgets. "I mean…what are people going to think knowing that the head Cheerio sympathized with someone" He mumbles, looking away innocently as Quinn's jaw clicks at the mention of her risked popularity.

She tenses up, her jaw clenches as a raised, familiar vein pulsates from the delicate skin of her forehead. Those soft, gentle orbs freeze in front of him as she crosses her arms in front of her chest. S

he looks away with a harsh huff and cold, pale cheeks; and suddenly, the girl he knows so well is back.

The world spins back into order as the balance is once again found; the imaginary halo gleaming above Quinn's head slips, clatters onto her lap, and shatters beside the satin red of her Cheerios uniform.

"I _don't _care, it's just that my clothes have been _marinating_ on that freak for the entire weekend and I would very much like to wear them again without having to do much more than boil them." She grits out through clenched teeth as her chin jerks up snobbily; a familiar flash of anger flickers in the girl's eyes as she attempts to regain her dignity.

And with that, they easily slip back into their black and white characters of Good and Evil. He pockets the money and feels his heart sputter at the hope of seeing the girl's bright grin when he shows up with a pile of new clothes for her.

Within minutes, they pull into the school parking lot and Quinn jumps out with her usual haughtiness and anger, leaving a smiling Finn alone in the car to be the hero and buy new clothes.

* * *

><p>~~ X ~~<p>

Puck swings his arm over the open trashcan and eyes the miserable line of geeks standing in front of him. Inwardly, he groans.

Every Monday morning, he gets the job of throwing kids into the dumpster, assigned personally by Quinn Fabray. Honestly, he doesn't like the dirty job; sure the squeaky pleas the blacklisters beg to him are fun to laugh at and every once and a while _somebody _pees their pants…but in the end, there are so many things he'd rather be doing than throwing gawky blacklisters into garbage cans.

_Important_ things like leering at the smoking hot babes roaming around his territory.

Speaking of which…

"Hey babe," He flirts to a nameless blonde girl with barely-there shorts and a tank top. She glances over to him with a coquettish smile while he winks, but it only takes a moment for the girl to gag and run away from him, covering her nose.

The smell sucks too…Those trashcans smell like a deadly mixture of mold and carcasses.

But it's not like he can do anything about it, once Quinn assigns something, you better stick to it or else you wanna start getting thrown into the dumpsters yourself.

Spitting out a mouthful of dip, he turns to the first geek in line, a gangly boy with acne and glasses, and smirks.

You never want to be first in line for the dumpster throws, one kid almost got suffocated underneath the smell and five other kids on top of him.

Grunting, he walks over and heaves the kid over his shoulder like a bag of trash, spinning around, he throws the kid into the garbage and smirks again at the faint _Oomph_!

He manages to cut the line by ten geeks all while grumbling about having to come to school early for this when the sound of a car door slamming shut catches his attention.

Quinn Fabray practically glides out of Finn's car in her usual dashing grace of anger and irritation and looks around as if expecting someone to jump out and cover her from the rain with an umbrella.

Puck smiles faintly to himself as he flings another blacklisted into the trash. Who is he kidding? He's got the hots for this girl...Well, he's got the hots for everybody, but there is something about Quinn that just touches him somewhere above the waist for once.

Honestly, he doesn't know how this happened, sure, Quinn's hot but almost every girl is hot to the Puckzilla so that doesn't explain anything. She's got no place in his "heart", he is the school's roughhouse bad boy; he sleeps around with every girl he can find, and that includes Quinn's best friend Santana, who is almost as slutty and dogged as he is.

But Quinn is Miss goody two shoes, she looks at herself like she is the princess of this bankrupt school, and she treats it as such. She glides around campus with such prestigious snobbiness and scorn that a single glance from her should have been able to ward him away forever.

Apparently, that was not the case as he is now shooting all sorts of longing glances her way.

He's got no chance with the girl, not only does she have his dopey best friend wrapped around her pinkie finger, but she is Queen of the Celibacy club and everything that is Holy. It is absolutely hopeless; she wouldn't let him near her virginal white panties even if he tried.

Another few nerds, twerps, and other lame names for the blacklisters get dumped before he looks up again. Quinn is standing alone underneath the building with a grim scowl on her lips.

Grunting, he throws the last loser into the trash and rubs his hands together, letting the downpour of rain-wash them clean. He shrugs his damp jacket over himself and walks a bit closer to where Quinn stands and hides from the rain.

The girl's got that distant look on her face that she gets whenever she's alone, it usually makes her frown and suddenly Puck's wishing he knew where Santana was other than for just a quickie.

Puck isn't stupid; sure his grades suck, but so does school, and yeah maybe he isn't good with triangles and squares or memorizing facts about people who have no connection to him or his life in any way…but he's got street smarts, and that is what matters to him.

You give him a few bucks and he'll know how to spend it; if he's lost in the middle of Lima, he's the first guy to navigate the closest stripper bar, and if you give him a girl, he'll know everything about her, and by the end of the week, he would've seen everything on her.

That's the kind of knowledge that is important to Puck, and so it's suffice to say that he's taken it upon himself to know Quinn very well…Despite the shameful fact that he's failed to see the girl in his lair, he's been successful in learning everything about her, in a cool, non-creepy way.

Quinn's got her princess complex and raging bitch attitude, but like he's said before, he's not dumb enough to think that bitchiness was all Quinn had to her. He knows that whenever she's alone, her frosty eyes glaze over in an incomprehensible misery that can even sting _his_ lady lustful heart.

Not only that, but she's got a secret soft spot for music, especially Glee club; Santana's not the only person to have snuck up on the girl as she creeps into the auditorium.

She'd never admit to it, but she likes to read and loves the warmth of a sunny day.

He's caught her at the park over the summer, ear buds in her ears and a smile gracing her lips as she flips through whatever book she's found. Not that he'd ever tell anybody about what he's discovered, what would people think knowing that Quinn Fabray finds something pleasurable in life? The horror…

The sight of a petite brunette striding towards Quinn breaks his dream-like state and he smirks and leans against the wall.

This should be good. He felt like he was in some Roman cathedral (fine, he listened to that part in history; unnecessary violence was cool). Every one leaned in towards Quinn-the-princess-warrior as the clueless victim-to-be-slain wandered closer.

Just the sight of the girl screamed weakness, Quinn would eat her up and not break a sweat, the girl walked as if she were a puppet and her puppeteer was extremely drunk.

She moved in jerky movements and stumbled often, but made up for it with persistence as she always got up again. There were deep bags underneath her eyes and bruises covering her legs (probably from falling so often) and a tight smile that looked more like a grimace on her lips.

And it wasn't just the rain disturbing his vision because as the girl got closer to Quinn, she got out of the rain and looked even more fragile still.

But the girl's weak composure didn't do the same effect to Quinn that he would have thought; she seemed to move back with every stumbled step the girl would take towards her.

She looked partly…scared? Was it possible? Quinn threw a furious glare at the brunette and took a step back but the girl was oblivious and only grinned wider as she advanced forward.

People grew even more interested as their princess-warrior faltered horribly in the sight of such a weak girl. But as the girl finally reached Quinn, everything changed; Quinn stopped running and stood frozen while Rachel blabbered insistently about friendship or something like that.

Puck cringes at the stern look Quinn gives her; what is wrong with this girl? Does she even know the rules?

He winces when Rachel's hand lands on Quinn's bare arm and fully expects Quinn to slap her, he almost looks away but he figured that it wouldn't be manly to look away from a catfight.

What happens instead shocks him completely, and his jaw hangs unceremonially on the ground as Quinn's bitchy façade lessens even slightly. Those hazel eyes soften like they tend to do whenever she thinks she's alone and the grim lines of aggravation turn up gently into neutrality.

People buzz around the two girls with interest and gasp collectively at the new advance in their little bloodthirsty cathedral game.

A little shoot of bitterness makes its way into Puck as he watches, it took him an entire day of all his tricks to get Quinn to be neutral towards him, and even then, he risked being thrown into his own dumpster.

The two of them stand like that for a long while, the brunette whispering every so often to the blonde while Quinn almost looks like she wants to snuggle closer.

But eventually, like most moments with Quinn do, the peaceful minute ends quickly and painfully because then Quinn's eyes flicker to the open area around her, to her wide-eyed subjects that stare at her with hungry curiosity.

And before anyone could blink, Quinn's hard lines return to her face and her hand rises into the air; suddenly, every one knows she's done playing.

She snaps her fingers and just like that, everything jostles back into motion. Jocks jump into action like the girl's personal flying monkeys and grab the brunette. All of them laugh and jab at her as they push the startled girl around, and in a large swing, she is quickly dispensed into the dumpster.

And that was that.

The crowd disperses with Quinn's collected glare scaring them all away like a mental whip, lashing at everyone until the crowd turns into a swarm of animals.

Puck sighs and leans back, waiting for the approaching blonde. He couldn't actually call the girl out, but he had his ways. When she walked towards him, he quirked an eyebrow and smirked…Sure, his "ways" weren't very assertive with words, but it always worked at getting Quinn's attention anyway.

She sighs and quirks an eyebrow right back at him,

"What do you want Puck?" She drawls slowly and looks towards the crowd nonchalantly.

While doing his inward fist pump, he smirks more and shrugs

"I don't know Blondie, what did I just see there?"

Another sigh

"I have no idea what you're talking about. Rachel just walked up to me and caught me by surprise, whatever, freak" She had started off strong, but by the end she was half grumbling and staring at her shoes. Puck couldn't be more delighted,

"Oh! So it's Rachel! I thought blacklisters weren't to be called by their first names"

He has got her there. He chuckles on the inside but keeps his expression as stoic as possible as to not awake sleeping bitch within this grumbling girl. She scoffs but a fleeting moment of panic crossed her expression as he had a point.

"Whatever, she's just a freak! I don't even know her last name. She probably doesn't even go here. Sh-she's still wearing my clothes an-" She stops, catching herself as Puck's eyebrow reaches his hairline.

Quinn huffs and bites her lip as she had completely lost her composure. With a huff, she clamps her jaw shut and glares at Puck, her eyes swirling with contempt and the promise of revenge.

Oops, game over.

Rolling his eyes, he hastily changes the subject.

"Do you know where Santana is?"

For some odd reason, the two girls had gotten along in an odd way. It's not like they had anything in common, Santana had loose panties and sadistic tendencies while Quinn probably wore a chastity belt and she had no need to be sadistic, she just controlled people.

But the two of them stuck together, bonded through some secret understanding, and the two of them seemed to like it like that.

Quinn got a bitchy assistant while Santana got to be on the top, fueling her bitchy desires through the weak scum at the school. And if Santana was good at anything, it was at making people cry, and for keeping Quinn's destructive personality at bay.

But the girl was missing, and that meant trouble for the kids who couldn't pull their popular weight. He had called the Latina for a few booty calls and then called with true concern but only received a shrugged off response from the girl's mother.

He supposed the woman had thought that he was stupid enough to fall for "she's at a friends house" the entire weekend and without her phone. Nobody went anywhere without their phones.

When Quinn's eyes narrow and she bites her lower lip, he knows that she had gotten the same response. She looked upset, not in a way that a normal person would express worry or concern; no, Quinn was too stubborn for that.

It was in the things she didn't express; his personal favorite was her eyes. Those chestnut eyes became hollow as if all the emotion was scooped out of them, leaving nothing but the empty color.

Pink lips pursed into a straight line and she straightened, her shoulders rolling gently as if preparing for battle. It was almost funny; she was so scared of showing her emotions that he could see right through her.

And then, just like that, Quinn pulls her favorite card of changing the subject. She was famous for things like that, once things got too personal for her, she expected others to change the subject for her or she did it.

And it worked every time, if she was lucky, the subject of Santana being missing would be swept under the rug like a true Fabray.

Leaning in closer, the girl pulls on a mask of smiles; Puck doesn't believe it for a second, but he plays his part of the weak-minded boy who's easily distracted. Besides, if he does this enough there was a chance that he may get lucky.

A small chance yes, but he was willing to do almost anything.

"Hey can you do something for me?" She murmurs lowly, lifting her voice into a question, as if he actually had a choice in this matter. He almost laughs.

"Finally take your V-card?" He responds in the same low voice, making her recoil with disgust. He takes victory in the fact that she didn't hit him and run away like the first time he suggested it, progress.

"Not a chance," She hums, her eyes sparkling with pure delight far beneath the mask of contempt as she once again rejects him. She, like most girls, is secretly sadistic. "I want you to watch Rachel, check her out you know?" Her voice dips down with the seriousness of the matter and her face hardens as if what she was saying was absolutely crucial to the survival of the High School body.

"Hmm...I don't want to be your garbage man anymore" He bargains and Quinn quirks an eyebrow, crossing her arms she smiles.

"But such a _strong _and _capable_ man like you should love showing off his strength, I bet girls are crawling all over you" She drawls but he doesn't fall for her this time, words like that are meant to trick guys like Finn, not him.

"Girls don't dig the stench so much, I've managed fairly well but it's pretty tiring working with pure charm" He says with a shrug and a wink that makes her twitch.

Breathing slowly, she finally nods and waves her hand as if magically erasing his name off the assignment list.

He smirks as she rolls her eyes. "Then yes, I will check her out for you" He breaths out and winks, revealing all of his dirty little thoughts to her.

Smirking inwardly, he spins around as Quinn's expression twists with rage and runs away before she can destroy him.

Shoveling past the still scrambling herd of people he slowly shoves his way towards the dumpster can.

Looking into the grimy can, he finds the brunette lying in a tragic heap by the peeled bananas and Jew-fro. Her chocolate eyes stare out in confusion at the sprinkling sky as the slimy boy beneath her runs his clammy hands over her bare shoulder and whispers into her ear.

The girl looks appalled and disgusted but she still nods and tries to listen to him. But when the boy smells her hair and says that he wants to ravage her sexually, Rachel's expression twists into a compilation of horror, disgust, and more confusion. Puck takes this as his chance to pull her out.

Putting his hands on the dumpster, he props himself up and grabs the girl. With one quick pull, he practically throws her from the garbage. When a few other blacklisters begin to groan and throw their hands up into the air like zombies rising from the ground, he glares at them. "Don't even think about it, unless you want to be thrown into the portables next time"

The zombie hands quickly fall back to their dirty, trash covered ground.

Once she is out, she holds her stomach and looks as if she were seconds away from heaving her guts out, Puck steps back just in case.  
>"That kid made me feel rather unpleasant!" She whines and frowns at her feet that turn inward childishly.<p>

He chuckles and slaps her on the back which coincidentally slammed her back into the dumpster. But when her gaze flashes to him, he stops laughing and stares at her confused expression, stone cold with seriousness.

_Seriously? It's called disgust and it isn't all that uncommon...What is up with this girl? She's probably some homeschooled kid, sheltered beyond belief. _

Coughing into his hand, he yanks her up and pulls her away from the crowd gathering around. He drags her until they reach the sticky warmth of the girl's locker rooms.

There are no teachers hanging around so he won't get in trouble for peeking; unfortunately that also means that there are no girls to peek on. He sighs heavily and sits the girl down on the bench; her head whips around wildly as if she'd never seen a locker room before in her life.

With another sigh, he lets himself get into character of interrogator; he lazily leaned against the lockers and crossed his arms. With the eyes of a true investigator, Puck checks her out. The girl was attractive.

Her hair, although still damp and a little ruffled, shimmered in the artificial light, casting dark shadows into the hollows of her cheekbones. Her dark brown eyes look up at him through the thick cover of her eyelashes – and although they looked purely innocent – with the flush of her cheeks, it gave her a sexy flustered look. It definitely appealed to him.

Also, there was something attractive with her defined jaw line and thicker yet delicate shoulders, and she had a slightly larger nose that sent off a wonderfully sexy Jewish vibe to him. A part of him considered forgetting about this stupid "interrogation" act and hitting on the girl.

He's sure he could have this girl by the end of the week; it would be a lot easier than trying to woo Quinn like he's been doing for the past year or so. But damn it he gave Quinn his word and he's wanted the girl since Freshman year and that's the longest crush type feelings he's held for someone in his entire life.

Damn it, damn it, damn it!

"So, what's your name?" He starts it off easy and gives her a friendly smile; he goes about this kind of like the way his dad taught him how to hunt.

Creep up on your prey slowly; make it so they become comfortable with your presence and then Bam! You've got dinner.

It's one of the only salvageable tips his father's ever thought to give him, but it has proven to be helpful.

"Rachel!" She chirps, flashing off a blinding smile; Puck waits for a moment with wide eyes before coughing into his hand again

"Um...Last name?" He asks unsurely and her eyes flash with fear. Shit. He flashes his own charming smile and tries to come off nonchalant though he's never been much of an actor.

Rachel looks as if she's a caged animal; her chocolate eyes glance to him and to the door and then wildly look around the room before landing onto the only escape once again.

After a moment, she finally settles down and bites her lip, thinking. He figures the girl is determining if he's a creeper of sorts and wants to hand out personal information, but seriously, it's only a last name.

Eventually, the girl seems to have made a decision because she beams and straightens.

"Berry! My name is Rachel Berry" She grins happily before shrinking slightly, as if self-conscious of her own last name; she looks as if she wants to ask him if she gave the right answer. He just grins and tries to move onto an easier subject...an easier subject than names... Shit.

"Okay Rachel Berry" Another happy grin "You just moved here right? Where from?"

Her eyes slide around and she tenses up a bit but less than before, pearly white teeth tease with her lower lip while she analyzes her next answer.  
>"Far away..." She finally replies with uncertainly.<p>

Moving on...

"Okay...Um...What classes are you taking?" He asks and she looks horribly guilty

"What classes are _you _taking?" She asks, her voice cracking as she obviously tries to squirm herself out from the focus of the conversation.

With a sigh, he decides to move on once again onto even more easily answerable questions to which she manages to dance around the subject with frustratingly cryptic answers.

Finally, after what seems like hours of going nowhere, he throws up his hands and growls while her focus is directed towards the showers she just noticed. "I didn't know there were showers here!" She says delightfully and sighs as if this little fact has answered all of her hopes and desires.

Forget this, he's going to shoot his prey, his dad was an idiot, he's been doing this for way too long and he might actually know less about the girl than when he began.

"Look here Rachel Berry, I don't know what is going on here but you better tell me because I have connections with some very powerful people," Yeah, only Quinn Fabray and she's already done her worse but Rachel doesn't know that "And they can throw you out of here with a simple snap of my fingers" He lifts his fingers and widens his eyes to glare at the girl who looks about seconds away from wetting herself.

He honestly has no idea what he just said and anybody with nothing to hide would have laughed at his empty threat and walked out of the door but Rachel is shaking like a leaf, and with her wide eyes watering and her lips quivering, she whimpers.

"O-okay! I don't go to this school! Pl-please don't tell anybody, I just wanted to l-learn and- and I only know two people since I moved here and that is Finn and Quinn and one of them has yet to fully admit herself as my friend." She blubbers, tears stream down her face while she rubs at her eyes furiously. "Please, please, please" She begs into her hands and it makes Puck's stomach twist. "I just got here!" She whines in a high-pitched voice that reminds him of a child, her shoulders are slouched and her feet turn inward innocently. Puck sighs; she's just a little girl.

He doesn't know of any person who would actually go to this school willingly, let alone sneak into school when she wasn't supposed to. He put the girl under a runaway homeschooler and decided to stop the questioning.

He sits next to the crying girl and wraps an arm around her; it astounds him how warm she is despite the weather. Heat radiates from her thin frame and thrums into his arm as he rubs comforting circles her shoulders.

"There, there" He murmurs, feeling incredibly awkward for the first time since his epic birth; Rachel sighs and places her head into his shoulder, she really was incredibly small. After a few moments of sniffles, she lets out a breathy giggle.

"You know, I've never cried before...moving...here but now that I'm here it seems like the only thing I can do" She murmurs, rubbing her eyes.  
>"Well then, you have lived an incredibly sheltered life" He deadpans, looking desperately for something to drag them out of this touching moment. She giggles again and sighs<p>

"Have you ever cried?" She asks softly, and he bites the inside of his cheek at her lack of a filter, normal people don't tend to ask people questions like that. Rachel wriggles from his grasp, clamoring away from him enough so that she could look into his eyes.

Her wide, chocolate eyes are red brimmed and glazed but full of that irrational hopefulness that he can't help but answer her.

"Officially? No, I'm far too manly for that" He says and narrows his eyes at the girl's powerful laugh but he grasps onto the fact that the girl was laughing now instead of crying and blubbering. "Look, I'm going to help you" She shoots up and looks at him seriously.

"Really?" She asks, rubbing her eyes

"Yeah, but don't you dare tell anybody 'cause I still know powerful people" He warns and she nods her head furiously

"You can trust me Noah Puckerman" He groans at the use of his full name, he doesn't know how she got his full name but damn it he's going to kill whoever gave it to her. He hated the name Noah, Puck was so much better.

"Okay, so you happened to have stumbled onto one of the most bankrupt school in Ohio and the cheapest Principal in the world. Mr. Figgins has laid off most of the new teachers and only left the old and uncaring teachers that have met their 10-year. So, I'll give you a list of the teachers who won't notice if you slip into one of their classes. Honestly, this is the least supervised school in the world; people slip off campus and bring thier friends from different schools so you have nothing to worry about, okay?" Rachel just nods vigorously.

"And befriending Quinn Fabray?"

With a chuckle, he shakes his head

"Look, nobody is truly friends with Quinn. It's a waste of your time, trust me, you will be better off keeping your head down and joining a club to try to get yourself off the blacklist. Forget Quinn." He says but Rachel just frowns, her lower lip trembling and her eyes begin to water. "Fine! I will do whatever I can" He yelps in an attempt to keep her tears at bay and her face immediately splits in two with the brightest grin he's ever seen. "Just so you know, this is going to be the end of you," he grumbles but Rachel is beyond paying attention to his warning.

With another giggle, she throws her arms around him, places a chaste kiss on his cheek, and then jumps back in an excited jumble of clapping and squealing. "Alright, don't get all affectionate with me unless you wanna go somewhere with it" He looks the girl up and down and rubs the back of his neck with a sigh. "Okay, and ditch the 'far away' deal; people aren't going to be satisfied until they know where your from."

"W-what should I say?"

"You seriously can't tell the truth? What? Are you some assassin freak running from the cops?" He raises an eyebrow, that would be interesting to bring back to Quinn. Rachel's eyes widen at the word 'assassin' and shakes her head wildly, her brown ringlets are thrown around as she denies the accusation violently.

"Alright calm down before you take your head off…Just say you're from New York or shit and you had to move here 'cause shit was expensive or something. I don't know! I can't make this shit up" He grumbles and Rachel shrinks back, muttering an apology with those wide, chocolate eyes. This girl was weird, like seriously sheltered, but he supposes that's not Rachel's fault.

So, with a sigh, he pinches the bridge of his nose and awkwardly slaps the girl on the back. "Don't worry about it Rach, things are gonna be alright…" He manages to comfort her enough and soon that wild, beaming grin is back on her lips and her eyes are twinkling at the nickname.

With that, he smirked and turned to leave; he still couldn't imagine why the girl wanted to be a part of this school, he would do anything not to be registered into some school.

The moment he gets out of the locker rooms, he practically topples into Finn.

They both grumble and stare each other down; Finn's got a bundle of girl's clothes in his hands and has a strange blush tinting his cheeks.

Puck tries not to feel guilty that he has spent the majority of the day trying to get on Quinn's good side and in consequence, in her bed.

They both stand in awkward silence, both boys shuffling around;

"Ya know where Quinn is?" Puck mumbles, finally breaking the silence.

"Haven't seen her since this morning….Have you seen Rachel?" The lanky boy says awkwardly, avoiding eye contact. Puck grunts and points behind him before lurking away from the tense boy as they both silently admit to not being completely honest men in their intentions.

But nothing is said outwardly and as long as there are no words thrown into the mix, they can both go along in ignoring it. And that's exactly what they do, it's just the way things work around here.

* * *

><p>~~ X ~~<p>

Angels aren't very good at hiding.

This is one of the conclusions Santana has come up with since she's been here. The blonde had dragged her to what appeared to be an odd vacant campsite. A small fire burned and crackled in the middle as a steady coil of gray smoke billowed to the vast blue sky.

Throughout this odd campsite, large tarps were strewn about and overlapped into even larger platforms, all centered around the small crackling fire. As the girl abandoned Santana in the middle of one of these tarps, she skipped through the thin trees to gather and collect food.

Santana hesitantly sits down, her head snapping rapidly around her to keep her eyes on the obviously still present creatures, and as she did so, she had to think again that these people were simply horrible at hiding.

Popping out from behind trees, branches, and small wooden structures, were the curious and frightened eyes of the angels. Her paranoia was roaring with its full potential as there were literally people hiding in the trees that could potentially decide to sweep down and murder her at any moment. One blonde angel was fine company and kept Santana's scathing curiosity from killing her, but a whole clan of possibly blood thirsty, winged beasts hiding in the trees was too much for her too handle.

But then the girl came back with steaming, clay bowls of soup and two loafs of crusty bread in her hands and waved enthusiastically to the creatures in the trees.

The other angels whispered and peeked their curious heads through the leaves and a few hesitantly waved back before hiding deeper in the trees upon the sight of the human turning to stare at them. However, even as they hid, their large wings kept them from disappearing from sight.

The blonde sighed and looked down from the trees, mumbling something under her breath as she brought the clay bowl to her mouth. With a long slurp and a satisfying sigh, she licks her lips and smiles encouragingly at Santana, who seems a little lost on the instructions of how to eat.

Or just terrified because there were angels staring at her from every corner of her eyesight.

The blonde angel squeaks softly as the feather light feet of the ladybug crawls from underneath her dress and onto the skin of her pale arm.

With a light giggle, the blonde rips a piece of bread and hands it to the little insect. Santana sighs and glares at the trees, just waiting for the massacre to begin.

"I dunno what you're waiting for but they're not gonna join us" The girl mumbles between bites of bread "They have you pegged down as another violent human but I dunno about that yet" She says, her blue eyes sparkling as she stares at Santana and glugging down the rest of her soup. "So you might as well eat or else you'll scare them even worse with all that grumbling and growling coming from your tummy" She giggles and beams at the ladybug walking around the ignored bread crumb on her arm.

Santana frowns and she looks back from the trees and into the muddy soup. It was a questionable substance, filled with a slushy brown liquid with some unrecognizable vegetables bobbing up and down in it.

But just the sight of it made Santana's stomach lurch with undeniable hunger. With a heavy sigh, Santana munched on the warm bread as she grumbled angrily, eyeing the suspicious angels behind the trees.

Her attention, however, is snapped back in order after the food successfully plops heavily into her stomach, making her groan with satisfaction. With a ravenous hunger, Santana shoveles loafs of bread into her mouth as she simultaneously downs her soup.

Loud, animalistic growls of approval were heard between the short gaps of time between munching ferociously on food and shoveling it in. It was definitely a sight to behold, catching others by interest while pushing many others into the trees to cower in fear.

Even the blonde beside Santana shivered, her wide blue eyes watching the human with rapt curious attention.

Eventually the stock of food diminished, leaving Santana to stare down at the emptiness in front of her with a wistful expression.

The human released a soft sigh before wiping her wet mouth with the back of her hand, bringing her attention back at the intrigued blonde beside her.

"So, what you're saying is that these creatures – your friends – think that _I'm_ going to kill them?" Santana questioned, running her tongue along her teeth to remove the thick glaze of vegetable soup.

The blonde could only nod, her own thoughts straying on whether or not the human would in fact murder them all. The human frowns, her eyebrows furrowing into an expression unlike any of the others the angel has witnessed on her face. "What makes them think that? I'm not the one with the freakish wings and shit." Santana grumbles as she picked at the grass, tearing it from the soft mud with a satisfactory_ tug_.

Unbeknownst to her, the blonde stares sadly as the grass is torn up from the ground and thrown to the side, uprooted and dead. "Besides, it was _your_ friend who practically drowned me" She continues to grumble. At that, the angel perks up and beams at Santana.

"My friend? Do you mean Rachel? Oh! Is she alright?" The girl jabbers excitedly, completely ignoring everything around the word "your friend".

"Oh! You mean the dwarf who tried to drown me? Oh she's perfectly fine" Santana says with her usual snarky attitude that must have been completely lost on the blonde as she simply turns back to the trees with a beaming smile

"The human tells me that our sister angel is safe!" She yells, making the angels hiding in the trees peek their heads out from behind the leaves. They grin and a few manage a small squeak of happiness before Santana looks back at them and scares them back into their trees.

"Are you going to keep ignoring the fact that _your friend_ tried to drown me?" She bites out bitterly, feeling a little irritated and left out. The angel looks back to her with the happiest smile Santana's ever seen and giggles, her bubblegum pink tongue sticking out between her blindingly white teeth for a moment.

"My Rachel would never do that so it must have been the Looking Glass, it kind of sucks" She says, giggling again, and cocking her head to the side "At least, that's what Rachel tells me"

Santana just blinks, bewildered into silence.

"Wh-what's the Looking Glass?" She asks, her mouth suddenly dry at the thought of finally sating her curiosity. At the question, the trees all shudder as wings flutter and thrash through the leaves.

The blonde looks sadly at the trees and turns back to her, a little flitter of knowledge hiding behind those blue eyes. She shrugs and shakes her head; Santana huffs "Fine! Then at least answer me this…What are you?" The disruption in the trees grows stronger but the blonde doesn't turn to them like she had before.

"I suppose you could call us angels, if you need a label for us"

"So…am I dead then? Is this heaven?" Santana asks, looking around wildly. She wouldn't have been so starving or ignored if she was in heaven. Admittedly, the first thing that crosses her mind is: _Damnit! Quinn and her stupid Christian shit was right_

The girl just cocks her head to the side and looks at her, a smile tugging at the edge of her lip as she blatantly stares.

"You're kinda weird aren't you?" She finally says, with a small giggle. Santana sits up straight at the accusation and blinks. No, she isn't weird at all! She's popular and sexy; people would _kill_ to be her. She opens her mouth to spit out a quick retort, but the girl has disappeared.

Blinking again, Santana looks around wildly for the blonde angel and jumps when she finds the girl right behind her.

"Holy Shit!" She scrambles up as the girl giggles; the angel taps her on the shoulder with a maniacal grin.

"You're it!" She cries and jumps away in a playful trot. Santana just watches with wide eyes.

What. The. Fuck. She just asked if she was dead in a seriously deep way and the girl called her weird and broke a fuse. What? Did she want to…play? What the fuck? Shit…She really is dead…That explains it, this girl's got a bad problem with bringing bad news to peo-

"You're it!" The girl taps her again and jumps away into a full sprint, giggling madly and breaking Santana's thought process.

Santana watches with wide eyes for a long moment and bristles at the occasional giggle thrown in from the trees. A part of her considers leaving the girl and continuing on her own, it's not like she actually knows this girl, she's just a stranger who could be coaxed into talking with her.

But then again, this is the first time in the past couple of days that she's felt somewhat full and actually talked to someone who didn't cower in fear and practically pee their pants.

With a sigh, she runs after her…companion?

She runs past the trees, through the wild weeds, and through the cherry blossom leaves that let off their pink petals like soft rain droplets, unaffected by gravity.

Every time she thinks that she's lost the blonde, she finds the girl giggling and leaning by a tree or hiding in a bush. When Santana jumps at her in an effort to tag her, she flies away and runs away again. The sound of giggling trails behind her.

Santana can see a few angels straggling behind her, a few coming down from their trees and watching their fellow insane angel stringing the human along in a childish game.

Straightening up, the rogue competitive side of her is howling for a chance to win; with a roll of her neck, Santana starts to jog again, but as she hears the sound of her feet falling against the trodden earth and the sweet giggles that leave her a trail to follow, she feels herself speeding up.

Before she could take common sense into account, Santana is dashing through the trees, breathing evenly through her mouth as she follows the trail the girl left behind like a bloodhound on the hunt.

She runs the girl straight into a thicket of trees, sunlight streaming through the twisted branches in ribbons of light and illuminates Santana's way; it pushes her forward until she has cornered the angel between two trees, the sunlight flickering in through the leaves.

She would chuckle in victory, but she is so out of breath that she is moments away from collapsing. So instead, she just strides over and clamps the girl on the shoulder.

"You…Are…It…Bitch" She pants between whooping gasps and immediately doubles over onto her knees. She smirks victoriously, she can see the girl's bare feet from the position she currently holds and watches to see if the girl is going to run again, or throw a fit like her cousins usually do when they are caught.

But the girl just leans against the tree. Santana looks up to see the girl smiling happily, looking at the ladybug now cupped in her hands.

Santana pouts as the victory in the game is thrown out right from beneath her; she bristles, tries to catch her breath again and slowly straightens up her spine so that her eyes are now somewhat level with the strange girl.

With soft shaky breaths, Santana tries to regain at least a stable voice, wincing when it only comes out airy and out of breath, "What-what was that about?"

The girl jumps up again and for a moment Santana leans down, about to sprint towards her when it looks as if she was going to sprint again. But instead, the angel just cocks her head, a large smile on her face as she gently placed her hand on Santana's shoulder and kisses her on the cheek.

A fierce blush attacks Santana's cheeks and she looks away from those dizzyingly sparkly, blue eyes.

"A dead ladybug doesn't need any air" She says simply and Santana blinks, wondering if what she said is connected to what Santana asked in any way at all. She grins, expecting Santana to connect the dots. "You can thank me later"

Santana blinks again but as she feels the whooping gasps she takes in to catch her breath, she smiles a bit as it starts to make sense.

"You know that I have a million other questions for you right?" Santana says a little breathlessly

The girl just smiles cutely and scrunches up her nose.

"I don't have all the answers" She says simply and grins a bit wider "You'll have to be nice to my friends"

Santana just chuckles, having no response to that. She's not built to be nice to people, and these things aren't even people, but she supposes interacting with this girl hasn't been so dreadful.

"What's your name?" Santana asks gently and looks up to see the girl shrug happily but doesn't say anything; another question unanswered. Clearing her throat, Santana leans back and attempts to adopt her nonchalant attitude again; it would be so much easier if she had her pack of cigarettes with her. "My name is Santana Lopez" She husks with bravado, letting her egotistical take its place and smirks when the angel's eyebrows rise with interest.

But again, she doesn't say anything more and after a moment, the angel brings out the ladybug that had crawled onto her wings and holds it close. She examines it closely and gives a small smile full of secrecy and warmth.

She brings out her hand and closes one eye as she examines the bug, then Santana, and then finally shrugs and sits back down in the shade underneath the tree.

Santana blows out a deep breath and sits down across from the angel, her curiosity was thrumming with more life than she would have liked. But maybe this wouldn't be so bad as she had first thought, at least this girl wasn't an annoying dwarf like Rachel.

* * *

><p>~~ X ~~<p>

Finn's fingers play with the new piles of clothes, his feet shuffling against the floor as he moves into the girl's locker room. He winces a bit upon entering, half expecting a teacher to catch him and scold him, but after a moment of silence he grins and walks towards Rachel.

The girl is sitting down, beaming at the lockers in her usual way. He liked how happy she always was, there was always a smile on her lips; it made things easy. She wasn't complicated like Quinn was, there were so many little mines and explosives hidden beneath that calm exterior, just waiting to explode at a misstep; but Rachel wasn't like that, she was an open field of daisies and other good smelling flowers, warm and safe all the time.

Finn's face scrunched up into a smile as he shuffles closer to Rachel, bending down to sit beside her on the wooden little bench. The girl sat unseeingly, a small smile adorning her features as she seemed to ghost through her own little world, completely unaware of his presence; Finn shrugs and places the neat pile of clothes beside her, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

He never knew how to start things with girls, especially conversations. Rubbing his now empty hands over his jean clad thighs; he looks at the girl as she smiles absently. Might as well go for it.

"Rachel" He says softly, watching with amused eyes as the girl jumped a bit and whirles over to him in surprise. "I got you these" Rachel's eyes widen as she looks from him to the pile of folded clothes beside him. An even brighter smile plays at the edge of her absent smile making Finn grin and duck his head. "I thought of getting you these when I was driving to school today." Not completely accurate, Quinn had given him the money and idea but she had also been extremely mean.

"Thank you Finn, you didn't have to do that." She says and grins, but her attention isn't fully on him, she seems distracted and it made his stomach churn a little bit. He ducked his head until Rachel's eyes reconnected wit his and smiled fully once more when her complete attention was returned to him.

"What's on your mind" He asks, expecting a generic answer to his generic question.

"Quinn" She sighs dreamily, and he shoots up, his face growing hot as a little spark of jealousy curls in his stomach.

"Quinn?" He asks blankly, hoping that the "Q" was simply misheard and was actually an "F"; but apparently, it was wishful thinking as she grins and nods her head.

Rachel and Quinn, that's all that this has been about lately, it doesn't matter that Quinn's awful to the girl or that it was actually Finn who had introduced Rachel to most of this place and was her first real friend.

Nope, none of that matters now, he was just cut out of the picture for some reason and it makes him so undeniably angry. He clenches his fists as a hot flush comes over him. Words bubble up before he even knows what he's saying; word vomit, that's what it is. "Quinn. Why do you want to be her friend so bad? She's awful to you! Y-You know what she told me today? Hmm? She said that you were disgusting…and…and that she wanted to boil her clothes. I don't know what that would do but she wanted to do it because you were wearing her clothes and marinating them or something…I don't know" He regrets saying anything the moment he lets it slip; Rachel's expression changes so quickly.

How do girls do that? It takes him at least a minute to process words enough to get a proper response, but girl's expressions flip like a switch from happy to sad. Rachel was doing that now, her once smiling lips are now turned down into a trembling pout; her eyes are downcast and water slightly.

Patting her back slightly, he frowns at her sympathetically and moves to get up.

Emotional things are really difficult for him, he never really knows what to do and usually just makes things worse in the end. Apparently that sunny meadow has to have a cloud every once and a while…He'll just come back when Rachel is happy again. "See you in Glee club" He murmurs lowly and shuffles out of the locker room, his head hanging low as Rachel nods gently.

She looks as if she's collapsed on herself like a dying star. Her head is practically lying in her lap and her shoulders are hunched, as she sits dejectedly in the locker rooms, small sniffles fill the room moments later, but Finn is far from the scene by then.

* * *

><p>~~ X ~~<p>

Surprisingly, the day has turned out rather well for Quinn despite the rather unfortunate beginning with her Dad yelling in her ear and then Finn taunting her.

But Finn has been gone most of the day, getting what's-her-face clothes and Puck is doing a background check. She hadn't thought of it at the time, but she was rather successful in keeping both boys out of her hair all day and dealing with this…problem without her actually being involved. Which means that it doesn't seem like she cares, which is good, so take that Finn.

But unfortunately, it had to end some time and around the last couple of hours of the school day. Puck lurks around her, scaring away the small Cheerio group she had managed to replace Sa- a certain someone's absence- with and sidles up next to her with a shit-eating grin.

Quinn sighs and quirks an eyebrow at the boy as he continues to grin and rub his hands together.

"Well?" She inquires and crosses her arms; Puck just chuckles and holds his jacket close to him, he parts his lips as if to speak and then stops to grin again. She sighs, she's going to get nowhere with this boy. "Spit it out or leave," She growls

"Oh…I will 'spit it out' Baby, but a guy like me expects to be paid for his efforts" He leers and she slaps his head. "Hey! Watch the Mohawk baby, it's where I hide my mojo powers" He sneers.

"Shut up and tell me about Rachel." She says lowly, but the foolish boy just keeps chuckling, blowing warm air threw his hands. Boys were always like that, laughing at nothing, it was absolutely infuriating.

"Which one do you want? For me to shut up or to tell you about Rachel?" He murmurs softly as he leans against the lockers beside her. His brown eyes glint mischievously as he cocks his head closer to Quinn's. "Now pay up" He husks, smirking down at her as if he somehow possessed control over her and the little game they play.

Quinn's insides twist angrily, but no one could possibly tell from the cool front she lives underneath. Her lips twist into a sweet smile before she moves closer in measured steps toward the mohawked boy.

The boy's eyes light up happily as Quinn's lips come in a closer view; however, his joyous mood spirals downward quickly as her lips veer to his ear. Her fingers pierce his skin as they bring him closer to her lips, already moving quickly to transfers the venomous words from her tongue to his ear.

"Do I have to remind you who you are speaking to? I control who is cool here and who isn't. I put you here and I can easily knock you back down to the silly, wannabe badboy you were freshman year." She whispers fervently into his ear and pinching it tightly. She smiles with in a cold mechanical reflex as the flesh heats up beneath her fingertips.

He rips from her grasp with a cold scowl and shoves his hands into his pockets.

"Fine, her name's Rachel Berry and she moved here from New York…and now she goes here, it's a really boring story" he grumbles, Quinn cocks her head to the side and catches his dark gaze.

"That's it? Nothing else?" She says and he flashes a dark smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. His bronze skin is flushed around his neck and the red marks where Quinn's fingers had dug into his ear remain a blaringly red color, but something else had changed his appearance. There was something dark in his eyes that makes Quinn's fingers recoil, clenching into hard fists. Rebellion.

"That's it"

* * *

><p>Sometimes Quinn hated Cheerios practice, the running, constant berating, and humiliation from Coach Sylvester just didn't seem worth it sometimes. She'd actually tried to get out of it once but then her father had gotten all red in the face and her mother had just rambled about how her older sister was such the perfect little Cheerio.<p>

And that was the end of that, she hated it whenever her parents tried to compare her with her older sister, Grace. Even the name was better than hers, Daddy's friends always complimented it by saying the name just rolled off their tongues.

The name Quinn was harder to swallow apparently because nobody thought it appropriate to compliment her about it. Which was odd because the name Quinn has an easy five letters, just like Grace, but it didn't matter, it was always: Oh Grace! Such a beautiful name for a beautiful girl…Not that she cared or anything.

Anyway, Grace was the golden girl, perfect in every way, and the little angel her parents fully intend on using as a mold to form Quinn into, and that means doing everything Grace did… like Cheerios.

She groans softly as she walked to the locker room, the Cheerios bag growing heavier on her shoulder as her mind begins to dread the upcoming workout. Quinn reaches her locker and grimaces at the cold metal before slipping on her tennis shoes.

As she crouches, she can see the faint mist rising up from the showers.

She moves slowly towards the little cubical shower, just to make sure that whoever was in there wasn't a young Cheerio attempting to take up all the hot water before practice. But as she came closer to the muggy heat of the mist, she caught the faint sound of…singing?

Quinn hesitates for a moment before quietly ebbing closer. The neat pile of her familiar clothing all folded up outside the shower sends a jolt in Quinn's stomach. Those were _her_ clothes.

The shower turns off with a quiet screech and the water pouring from the silver showerhead dies off to a lazy trickle, but the singing doesn't stop. Whoever is in there continues to hum the tune of a song that is completely unrecognizable to Quinn. The voice makes the sensitive skin of her neck rise, emanating shivers from her head to her toes.

A tickling sensation swells across her skin until it becomes as raw and weak as goose flesh, touching sensitive nerves that Quinn hadn't even realized she possessed; even the faint hairs of her arms begin to rise and react, prickling as if controlled by an unrestrained force of electricity.

The voice boomed in a round deep sound that seemed to move the very walls around her; an ancient hum that stirred something restlessly in the pit of Quinn's stomach. It charged the room with unseen electricity, glazing across Quinn's skin with a heavy and thick calmness that uncoiled her muscles in a way that even the most skilled massages could never achieve.

The voice continued in its song and subtly lulled the blonde somewhere different, where it was warm and bright and cozy. Her eyelids flutter closed and she subconsciously leaned forward, compelled by the warmth of the voice.

"Quinn?" Her eyelids flash open, erecting her spine from its lazy position against the wall. Her gaze instantly clicks with wide, chocolate eyes of an extremely confused and naked Rachel Berry.

The girl was hiding behind the curtain, her slick brown hair around her shoulders and beads of hot water dripping down her bare shoulders.

_Rachel is naked…S-she has just taken a shower…which makes her without any clothes…a-and very…um… _

Quinn can only stare, her mouth hanging open. Her brain is frazzled and still wrapped in the warmth of Rachel's voice, and thus, allows her to look like a fool as she stumbles upon what to say. _Just look away_. But the girl's voice has drained all the energy from her muscles, and leaving something as sweet and thick as nectar clinging to the back of her tongue. Either way, she can do nothing else but stare at the small beads of water that slowly roll down the very tan and bare flesh of Rachel Berry.

"Quinn?" The girl says again, snapping Quinn's attention back to the girl's dark eyes

"You look a little flushed, are you not well?" Rachel asks, and before the blonde can respond a bare arm slithers out from behind the curtain and comes towards her. Quinn jerks back just in time to avoid the girl's hot, fleshy palm from caressing her face again. On unsteady ground, Quinn takes another step. The slightly cooler air refreshes Quinn's mind, slowly pulling her from the comfortable muggy mist of the showers.

Quinn fights to not stare at the sun-kissed skin as small beads of water drip down into No-Man's land where the shower curtain drapes across Rachel's chest.

"Quinn." The girl sounds worried now, her body teetering closer. Rachel's rejected hand hesitantly remained in front of Quinn for a few lingering seconds before slowly drooping down to her side, curling uncertainly around her curtain-clad stomach.

Once Quinn is far enough, she could notice how the girl looked.

Dark bags lay beneath those chocolate eyes and the lines on her face didn't quite align with the usual exuberance the girl usually showed. Her lips twisted into a small smile, twitching slightly with pain and discomfort.

Every so often, those dark, chocolate eyes would fade out and dim, as if falling into a dream, before snapping back into focus.

Rachel looks moments from passing out and worry was bubbling up Quinn's throat like sickly bile, threatening to roll off her tongue and destroy her. But she was far too stubborn for that, so she allowed the worry to burn her throat with its acidic unease and kept her lips sealed.

Turning away from the girl, Quinn instead focuses on the folded pile of clothes; there were technically three piles, one pile of Quinn's old clothes, and the rest were stacked up clothes that Finn had bought for her.

"These are mine" Quinn says dumbly, her voice still couldn't quite shake the relaxed husky tone that had snuck up on her. Coughing into her hand, she shakes her head and fights to stay alert as she points to the pile that Rachel couldn't see behind the shower wall.

Rachel doesn't look at her; she doesn't even move to see what Quinn is pointing at. Her head just thumps lightly against the wall as a finger makes slow patterns in the shower stall, but other than that, she barely responds.

Quinn bristles at this, picking up her clothes, she huffs and moves to face the girl again with flushed cheeks. This was, honestly, a bad idea as the girl was still in the same situation as she was before Quinn had looked away. "Are you ignoring me Man hands?" She snaps from behind a large lump in her throat.

Rachel blushes, her dark gaze slowly rising from where it lay, downcast on the floor and meets with hers.

"I would never be so crude as to ignore you Quinn, you can be assured." She sighs and picks at the paint once again and she let out a small shiver, as if she were somehow cold; which should seem rather impossible, as the showers must be about a million degrees Celsius by now.

Quinn lets out a breath as her face continues to heat up; _stupid_ locker rooms, it's a damn _furnace _in here.

A small, self-deprecating smile works its way across Rachel's lips as she eyes the clothes piled in Quinn's clamped hands. "You can also be assured that I will no longer be soiling your clothes any longer as Finn was quite the gentleman and bought me a new wardrobe." She murmurs softly and a real smile curls up from the sad little one from the moment before. Quinn's jaw clenches up as she sees the girl smile, beam actually, at the thought of _Finn_ buying her new clothes.

Finn couldn't keep his mouth shut; he just_ had _to blabber about what she had said _and _steal her idea for getting new clothes.

She considered telling her…But about what? That she hadn't meant to hurt her? That she hadn't meant for her cruel words to actually be heard? Or that it was really her idea to buy the girl new clothes? That it was really her, sprung up through Finn's image, which had the girl beaming so widely?

No, she could never tell the girl any of that, she was Head Cheerio and she had expectations to live up to, and caring for people like Rachel… wasn't acceptable. Gritting her teeth, she curses inwardly as the girl continues to smile, her eyes getting all sparkly at the thought of _Finn_ being so nice to her. Anger coils tightly in her belly and runs hot flames through her veins and making her practically bite her tongue.

"Do you wanna see them? I haven't tried any on but they look rather fantastic," Rachel murmurs, her voice squeaking with such hopefulness that it almost completely overthrew the underlying pain. Rachel sways gently as she leaves the shower, with a towel wrapped tightly around her, she grabs the first thing off the pile of her new wardrobe and slips back into the shower.

Quinn could see over the top of the shower the clothes being strewn about; there was so much argyle and skirts she literally cringed. Mary Jane shoes squeaked from behind the shower walls and it made Quinn sick knowing that her money and that _smile_ was wasted on such hideous clothes.

This reaction was wildly inappropriate; there was honestly no reason to feel so angry...It was obviously, because Finn was so fond of Rachel…and Finn meant a lot to Quinn…Yeah, that was it. That perfectly explains this feeling, anything else would be completely false and impossible.

To prove this point, she turns and leaves before the girl could leave the stall and show her the little argyle outfit. Quinn can see the girl droop in disappointment in her mind's eye and forces herself to ignore the bubbling sadness boiling up in her.

Rachel's sigh echoes through the now empty locker room and ricochets through Quinn's mind as she leaves for Cheerios practice.

* * *

><p>~~ X ~~<p>

Rachel sits on the stage of the auditorium, her feet dangling off the edge as she stares out at the empty, red theatre seats. Something odd has been happening to her lately, it started over the weekend.

She hadn't noticed it at first; it was just a silly scratching feeling on her insides, a little uncomfortable but, overall, not unbearable. But as the weekend drew on, it grew worse…It was like a little monster lived inside of her, it scratched and stretched at her inner skin and howled from its prison, making her miserable. It rattled through her bones and rushed past her ears in whooshing sounds and sometimes crawled through her body and covered her eyes so that she could see nothing but blackness.

This was obviously preposterous as the Elders had been very clear and detailed in the human and angel anatomy. There were organs, muscles, tissues, bones, ligaments, but no monsters so obviously this reaction was simply a side affect.

Sometimes she wished her Elders would teach them about side affects to things, they seemed to keep out the ugly details about what happened to things if they were not properly taken care of, simply instructed the angels to do what they were told, and live in a healthy, ignorant bliss. Obviously she wouldn't be having such delusional thoughts of monsters living in her stomach had she been properly informed of what was happening to her.

She knew all of the terms and the definitions but none of the feelings that come with it.

A wave of wooziness crashes over her and she groans softly and lets her eyelids flutter closed as her insides growled angrily at her.

"Hey, are you ready?" A familiar, low voice catches her attention. She turns to find Finn lumbering towards her with his usual sheepish smile and hands shoved into his pockets.

Rachel manages a grin behind a mild wince of pain from another loud growl emitting from inside her. She stumbles up from her seat and stands shakily in her place as Finn moves to keep her stable.

The glee club grumbles past her and move to their seats as the curly haired instructor moves to the desk facing the stage, it was time to audition for the Glee club. There were six members of the Glee club, only one of them smiled at her, and that was Finn.

A scowl is sketched on every one of their faces, making an odd impulse of shyness overtake her. Another odd thing that has taken a hold of her is waves of uncertainty and bashfulness; she's never been one to describe herself as apprehensive but being in this world does open her up to many new…experiences. Furrowing her eyebrows, she licks her lips and walks towards the center of the stage with Finn.

Another glance at the Glee club, they all look rather doubtful of her; despite them listening to her first sing she supposes a weekend has convinced them that her talent was merely a dream. Or…suppose their _hoping_ that it was only a dream as they do not appear to be so fond of her.

Swallowing, she watches the small crowd watching her and nods to Mr. Shuester who then gestures to the man sitting at the piano.

Within seconds, the sound of piano is filling her head and she smiles as the notes thrum in her head and dance around the lyrics pounding in her memory.

"I'm a new soul I came to this strange world hoping I could learn a bit about how to give and take," Rachel smiled sweetly, her eyes fluttering closed as the music swelled inside of her. "but since I came her, felt the joy and the fear, I found myself making every possible mistake!" She sings and watches as the bored expressions of her soon to be fellow glee club members melt into fascination.

The look made something catch on fire within her, she couldn't quite explain it, but it sparked something. A passionate flame spread through her veins and licked at her heart with burning intensity, she grins wider and crescendos at the last note.

In the distance, ribbons of light filters through the dark auditorium as a lone silhouette entered the theatre and hides in the shady back row.

But none of that mattered to her right now, instead her focuse was on the expressions she could see in the dimly lit room.

The people who were previously in this room all disappeared in Rachel's mind and blended together into a single mass of audience.

Every face, delicate or round, black or white, held the same expression: jaws hanging open, eyes shining, and leaning towards her.

Seeing it made the pain grumbling within her worth it, it was nothing but a faraway thought at seeing the expectant faces of her audience.

There was a single thought that described how she was feeling, but her hazy mind only ebbed at the edge of it, the name of the feeling was at her subconscious, extending its hand to her mind but she simply could not connect.

She continues with several humming sounds and "la's" that she sings cheerfully, practically chirping the crisp notes.

"I'm a _young _soul in this very strange world, hoping I could learn a bit about what is true and fake. But why all this hate? Try to communicate, finding trust and love is not always easy to make." Leaning forward, she smiles wildly at the expectant faces and feels her heart pick up.

A violent wave of dizziness nearly sweep her off her feet, but she manages to keep her eyes open and onto her expectant audience and remained standing as the current of her subconscious threatened to drag her down under.

Crimson lips stretch and she extends her hand to the members of the Glee club, grinning as she sings, her heart takes flight with each note she sings and flies higher into ecstasy with the excited whispers of the glee club staring at her in awe.

"This is a happy end 'cause you don't understand everything you have done. Why's everything so wrong? This is a happy end, come and give me your hand; I'll take you far away"

Everything is trembling now, her knees buckle, her mind pulsates, and blood rushes in her ears but she remains standing as if she were singing her swan song. Suddenly, it comes to her...what it is that she is feeling...Hunger.

Hunger for the attention of these glee clubbers; starvation for the applause that is soon to come and the euphoria that follows singing.

She doesn't know why she hadn't felt it before while in her home world, she's sung many other times in plays and choirs and she always knew that she was talented, but it never felt like this.

She has never felt such a strong pull as she does now, to be standing on this stage. It just felt so right, and she was famished for it. She wanted more of it, no, she _needed_more of it.

Taking a deep breath, she moves to finish her song but soon finds herself on the ground. Her eyes blink blearily at the now black marble of the stage that has replaced the shining eyes of her audience and groans at the cramped feeling in her legs.

Swallowing thickly, she hears the faint sounds of people calling her name and she tries to finish her song, for them, but can only manage out a small whimper.

Eyelids fluttering closed, she groans again and lies on her back as her wings shift and thrash from beneath her skin and her insides roar for something to pacify it. The singing is done and the dull thrumming that had satisfied her is gone and now everything is back in full rush of pain.

A rush of hushed whispers reach her ears but she is too far deep in her own experience to open her eyes and assess the situation.

"Oh shit"

"Why is Quinn Fabray here?"

"How'd she get here so fast?"

"Don't look her in the eye"

"She's practically sprinting!"

The feeling of soft hands on her torso, jostling her slightly, allows enough turmulation to allow her to crawl out from the abyss of unconsciousness for a moment. Her eyelids flutter open long enough to see a blonde girl.

The Glee club had called her Quinn, but to Rachel she looks completely different.

Her eyes were wide and concerned and her cheeks were tinted pink, it was as if someone scooped the hermit from its shell and revealed its vulnerable pink body to her.

Moments later, the hermit scrambles back into its cold shell and the girl hardens, her jaw clenching slightly as she barks out orders and insults to the Glee club. Her eyelids droop closed again, her mind far too occupied with whatever was going on within her to focus on what was happening outside.

The last thing she notices is being lifted up from the hard auditorium floor and held tightly in soft, warm arms.

* * *

><p>Yikes that was long! I'm sorry! I hate making it so long, cause I have reading (and writing apparently) ADD so if a story is really long I'll just stop and read it later. And later is usual a loott later soo...Yeah. I feel your pain. But I have to have a certain amount of things in a chapter before I can cut it off.<p>

Also, don't worry! This is a faberry relationship story! I know I'm adding a lot of boys into the story but they are important to the story! Their feelings still matter.

:)

Um..Yeah, sorry again for the long wait. I hate it too but what can I do? Sigh...anyway, thanks for sticking through the wait and the obnoxiously long authors notes :D


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry this took so long! Yikes, I promise this was not under normal circumstances!**

**Thanks for the reviews, as always**.

* * *

><p>Rachel barely takes up the bed.<p>

She's so small and delicate, her body just barely dips into the bed covers. Like a little stuffed animal, or a feather placed nicely on the bed for decoration. From the moment of being put down Rachel had immediately curled up into a small ball, her knees now press closely to her chest and her head nuzzles into the crook of her arms.

Her brunette hair is splayed around her head in a dark halo; the only thing that really shows that she is actually alive is the faint in and out movement of her chest as she breathes.

Rachel winces and groans softly, her face pressing pitifully into the soft down of the pillows. She sounds like a small wounded animal, or even something more helpless if anything more existed.

Quinn sighs and watches the girl from her invisible roost in the doorway, her body leaning against the frame with one foot out and one foot in. She hesitates from coming in completely, feeling almost as if she were trespassing – with the girl in her bed, the room doesn't look the same. It looks smaller and more comfortable; an illusion casts upon her painted walls and makes them look two shades lighter; it even smells a bit sweeter. But when the small girl groans again, Quinn swallows softly and infringes upon her own room, tip toeing carefully to the bed to avoid the sweet spots of her floorboards that croak loudly if approached.

Reaching the soft cushioned sheets, Quinn perches herself in the corner and hesitantly looks down at the girl. A sign of hunger is written in her shallow breaths and quiet whimpers, patching up in the girl's skin and dark hollowed cheeks.

Despite this blemish of infirmity, the girl still looks beautiful. Her brown chocolate hair looks lively in the dim glowing light, bringing out the many different shades of brown in her hair that looks so soft, it's as if it was fashioned from silk. Her arms lie intertwined against her chest with her fingertips inches from her lips.

Almost in a daze, Quinn feels her hand hover in midair and brush the smooth, warm skin of her wrist. Quinn's fingertips sweep across the dark veins that pulse beneath the thin layer of skin and runs up the small palm of a hand that should belong to a child, and finally resting comfortably on the soft, pink cushion of Rachel's fingertips. Rachel's long, slender fingers curl in a subconscious reflex until the pearly half-moons of her fingernails are pressed gently into her palm.

A small sigh breathes past Rachel's parted lips and she shifts lightly on the bed and curls further into herself. Her eyelids flutter gently as Rachel just barely grazes consciousness but drifts down again into a half-sleep. Quinn's heart thrums in delight and sits closer to Rachel's nearly conscious form.

How they had gotten home, Quinn barely remembers. The day wraps around her mind loosely and the memories run around her head like a carousel hyped up on adrenaline.

She can barely focus on one thing before going onto another; however, what does remain somewhat constant in her mind is the way Rachel had smiled over the very small and silent audience. Right before she passed out, she had looked like a star.

The rest of the day up until now is a combination of jumbled up shock and anxiety. She supposes she drove home in Finn's car but she doesn't remember whether or not he was in there with her or not; all she remembers is seeing Rachel's vulnerable and unconscious body limp in the chair.

And now Rachel was lying on Quinn's bed while soup is being microwaved downstairs in the kitchen. Quinn feels somewhat weird, like she's not really herself. She feels strangely out of her body. Up in the clouds, as her mother always likes to say; absently, she brushes a hand across Rachel's sweaty forehead. She knows that this is something that she would never do had she not felt this way, but it felt nice not being herself. She could just let herself float and react without worrying about consequences or Quinn Fabray things.

She blames all of this on something reacting within her. This _something_ coils tightly from deep within her belly and flushes her skin as if a small fire were set flickering at her insides, spitting and crackling with heat. It boils her insides in a slow and torturous roast until she is popping and sizzling with affection and it makes her body cry with such a distressed mixture of pain and joy.

Shaking her head, she focuses on Rachel and can't help but notice how different she looks. Not different in her day-to-day appearance, but how different she looks from everybody else.

It was hard to see, but once it was spotted, there was no denying that Rachel looked unique. The problem is that Quinn can't actually _find_ the source of her dissimilar appearance. It's not like Rachel has a sixth finger or two left feet; the dissimilarity was dispersed subtly through the delicate yet broad slight of her shoulders, the pronounced and outlandish form of her nose, and the strangely handsome face. It didn't look right, yet was completely natural on her, fitted her even.

With a quiet breath, her heart pulses heat through her veins and leaves her cheeks flushed and fingers trembling. A distinct beeping noise calls Quinn from her inspection and draws a slight stir from Rachel's stupor. Quinn jumps from the bed and leaps down the stairs, skidding into the kitchen to throw open the microwave door. There, lying in the middle of the microwave and bellowing wispy puffs of steam is the infamous chicken noodle soup.

Grace was the delicate flower of the family; whenever she got sick, and she often did, Quinn would watch her mother make a good hearty bowl of chicken noodle soup. Her mother would hum around the kitchen and say that a good bowl of soup could cure any ailment. And for Grace, this was very true since Grace had the act of sickness perfected to an art. She would cough lightly into her palm and peek over her blankets with rosy cheeks and a small grimace that seemed to look more like a smile. She would glance at the steaming soup with an inquisitive gleam to her eyes and blow the steam from the soup before stopping to cough again.

She would do this until Mom and Dad would worry themselves sick and fly about like little hummingbirds to spoon feed the soup to dearest Grace. Without fail, beloved Grace would be up again the next day stronger than ever and kissing her parents' cheek on her way out to school. Quinn never quite learned Grace's trick, if she ever had one, for whenever she was sick she had a rattling cough that shuddered through her entire body and an unyielding chill. Her parents were too afraid of getting sick themselves to care for her the way they did for Grace and always scolded her by saying she was too old to be spoon-fed.

Which is fine, because Quinn always liked being older, preferred it actually.

She doesn't need anybody's help with anything.

Blinking, she tears her mind's eyes away from the memory and grasps the soup, feeling the heat scald her palms as she brings it up to her nose for a small sniff.

Within moments, she is back at the door. It opens with a faint creak and light floods into the dark room slowly. Rachel is still on her bed, but she is no longer asleep.

She looks tired, there are dark bags underneath her eyes and her lips twitch downwards at the end of her trembling smile. But what catches Quinn's attention is what she's grasping; those gentle fingertips scratch and knead softly at the ruffled head of Quinn's old sleep mate and friend Lamby. Quinn releases a soft breath, feels her heart hitch slightly at the sight, and watches hopelessly as Rachel inspects the lamb. Rachel is holding a very intimate part of her past and with every movement Quinn feels her cheeks tint with shame and her heart flutter.

"Where did you find that?" Quinn asks gruffly and Rachel's gaze flashes up to her own. Her coffee tinted eyes gleam slightly as she smiles and strokes the ruffled head of the lamb again.

"He was under your pillow" She responds, her voice cracks a bit with sleep but it was warm with delight and Quinn dips her head in humiliation. When she was young, she'd hold the lamb close to her chest and kiss its head but as she grew older she felt that she was too mature for such things. So she hid Lamby under a pillow and would sneak her arm under the soft, linen cloth and stroke its head every once and a while.

"You weren't supposed to see that" She mumbles and scratches the back of her head with one hand as her cheeks flush a deep crimson.

"I think he's cute, what's his name?" Rachel says and Quinn dips her head and watches as her feet scuff against the floor.

"She" Quinn clears her throat and looks anywhere but at Rachel "Um, her name is Lamby" Quinn cringes, it sounded even worse out loud then it did in her head, she wasn't the most creative child. But Rachel doesn't seem to think it strange, she blinks and turns the lamb back towards her and smiles gallantly at it.

"Well hello Lamby, it's nice to meet you" She grins, grabs its hoofed arm, shakes it gently, and then kisses its cheeks. Quinn blushes and looks down at her hands, the whole scene felt terribly silly.

"I don't know how it got up there, I thought I gave it away a while ago" She lies and moves closer to Rachel.

Rachel doesn't respond of course, the lie had been far too obvious so she did the safest thing and remained silent. The room soon fills itself with unuttered whispers and shy silence and the shadows around the room begin to dance around the room as the minutes pass and the sun creeps below the horizon.

Dark shadows contort in the folds and creases of the pillow Rachel lays on; twisting and elongating in the darkening room from behind Rachel like little black wings. However, a small rumbling sound seems to drag Quinn from her stupor and she glances back to Rachel's face.

There was something deeply unsettling about the exhaustion clinging to Rachel's eyelids and the sallow gleam to her skin. Looking down at her hands, Quinn is reminded of the soup in her hands, now lukewarm. Sighing, she hands the soup to Rachel and lets her heart ache tirelessly; of course, she would be the disgraceful host to let their guest eat cold soup.

The moment Rachel gets a hold of the soup, something interesting happens. Her whole body seems to teeter into a look of uninhibited starvation. Crimson lips curl impatiently and her chocolate eyes flash with utter helplessness while her fingers begin to tremble as if she were opening a present she's kept unopened for nearly a year. Yet, she doesn't act with the impatience her body seems to imitate. With a garish grin, she thanks Quinn, puts the bowl in her lap, and inspects the spoon.

"Are you waiting for it to dance for you?" Quinn asks, the skittish impatience creeps into her voice and makes her knees bounce as she wearily watches Rachel.

"Well of course not Quinn, we both know that soup can't dance," She laughs simply, having taken Quinn's quip painfully literal, and grimaces with a pitiful groan while her stomach growls. "No, I was merely admiring this...thing...a...um..." Rachel's eyes widen and she seems to nod to Quinn, as if asking for what the thing in her hand actually was.

"...Spoon?"

"Yes! Of course! Spoon, silly me, it's a very nice spoon" She smiles gently and runs her hands over the silver, thumbing the faint curve and art carving in the stem.

Quinn waits for another moment before growing impatient again, and with this new wave of avidity came an overwhelming perfectionist.

With a sigh, she grabs the soup from Rachel's trembling hands and rips the spoon from her as well, and in the wake of Rachel's devastation, she gently molds Rachel into the perfect position.

Running gentle fingers over Rachel's delicate chin, she silently demands for Rachel to open her mouth, a command that Rachel quickly obeys. With great calculation, Quinn swirls the perfect amount of noodles, broth, and chicken onto the spoon and waits for the spare drips to leave the spoon before taking it to Rachel's waiting lips.

For a few moments, all that can be heard is the slurping of soup and the faint breaths between both girls. But eventually the silence overwhelms Rachel's talkative soul. "I wanted to-" Quinn raises the spoon and Rachel moves closer and sips the soup, her teeth clashing against the spoon. "Thank you for taking care-" Quinn shuts her up again with another deliberated spoonful of soup. "Of me" She finishes finally, but Quinn doesn't look at her.

Instead, she keeps swirling the soup with the spoon, but she can hear Rachel grow restless with the lack of attention. "The soup is deli-"

"Shh" Quinn cuts her off quickly and gives her another spoonful, just barely managing to bite off the smile threatening to crack at her lips by Rachel's wide, frustrated eyes. Rachel's lips turn into a stiff, firm line of aggravated confusion as she subtly chews a chicken piece.

Quinn was starting to feel a little bit more like herself, she supposes the shock of Rachel's collapse has worn off and left her to wallow in her calculations and perfections. Yet, even with the chains of normalcy yanking her adrift mind back into her steel-trapped body, she still feels warmth emanate through her.

Her short-stemmed rage has yet to flare to life just as Rachel's ever-present smile hasn't seemed terribly disturbing yet. "When was the last time you've eaten?" She asks gently and gathers another spoonful; Rachel stops herself from smacking her lips and stares curiously at Quinn. "What? Don't look at me like that, like you don't know what's going on," She continues softly, her spoon swirling the soup around in a whirlpool. "You look exactly like one of my new Cheerios; she starved herself to fit into her Cheerios uniform and ended up passing out on the first day of practice. Although it's a completely different situation in Cheerios since coach Sylvester believes that if you don't pass out at least once a week when you first join, you aren't conditioning yourself correctly," Quinn quickly bites her lip, angry with herself for rambling.

Rachel regards her calmly, inspecting her slowly and deliberately for something, but she gives up eventually with a sigh.

"I haven't eaten since Saturday morning, I had berries at Finn's house" She smiles faintly and Quinn sits back. The bed creaks with the sudden movement and Rachel winces at Quinn's wide eyes.

Quinn has to open her mouth a bit, as the tight and clenched feeling of grinding her teeth begins to set in. As the wave of bewilderment recedes from her mind, new waves of emotions begin to lick at the edges of her mind. Efficiently drowning her with bafflement, anger, worry, some kind of second-hand hunger, and at last amusement.

Finally, Quinn lets her head fall from its stiff position on her shoulders. She lolls it from side to side as her shoulders quake in aggravated laughter.

"Well, that explains it" She says with a wheezy breath, her stomach churns as her mind tries to calculate the total amount of hours she'd not eaten. A dull nausea overcomes her in churning waves that twist within her. "Why in the _world_would you do that?"

She lifts her head and looks up at Rachel, who is currently staring at her hands and looking extremely guilty. Quickly, Quinn scoops up another spoonful of the diminishing soup, puts a protective hand beneath the dripping spoon, and gives it to Rachel.

Sure, Quinn will admit that she has put herself through extreme diets; she's had to endure the Sylvester diet since freshman year. She's even skipped a meal or two, but this is insane.

"I guess it just didn't cross my mind"

"D-didn't cross your mind?" Quinn huffs and stares at the soup, hoping that its thick, frothy liquid could decode the riddles Rachel gives her. Doesn't cross her mind? In her distraction, Rachel steals the spoon from Quinn's stiff fingers.

Quinn barely notices the movement with her mind desperately scrambling for explanations and theories other than the one Rachel gave her. There has to be something more, something heartbreakingly complicated behind those seemingly simple words. _It slipped my mind_. That's how it always is, she's learned, that there is no such thing as a whole truth. There are always convoluted secrets entwined and pulsating just inches beneath the surface of something seemingly simple.

Eventually, she comes up with the most obvious and easily fixable explanation. Sue Sylvester's crazy diet. "Cheerios is only for a certain group of people, if you have to starve yourself to get in, it isn't worth it," She says finally between clenched teeth.

A part of her mind wants to say the beautiful words lacing themselves into a deep and caring speech. But her lips are tight and only lets the stern, cold words of a half-hearted demand slip past. "Besides, I wouldn't let you in anyway so you're only wasting your time hurting yourself like this" She finishes weakly and watches her hands interlace and clench in her lap instead of Rachel. "Okay?"

"Okay…" Rachel murmurs, her voice ending in a slight upturned tone, as if she were asking a question, but she says nothing more.

"Good" She says finally, her voice quivering skittishly. She lets herself push the subject down even though her mind still races for answers.

There is a moment of silence as both girls avoid each other's eyes; but at the faint clatter of silver against porcelain, Quinn looks down towards Rachel. Immediately, she sees the silver spoon hover into her line of vision, gathering the broth liquid into the curved silver.

Quinn squints and glances up to Rachel as she bites her lip and slowly brings to spoon up to Quinn's pursed lips. Tentatively, Quinn leans back and avoids the persistent push of the spoon. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Rachel says playfully, and pushes the spoon forward as if she were moving to feed a small child.

Every nerve in Quinn's body tells her to resent giving in to being cared for. Ever since her bitter rejection of love that Grace had gained so effortlessly she'd trained herself, subconsciously, to despise giving in to care. Instead she grew lean, strong, and stony.

Slowly, she had turned the rose petal warmth of her youthful face into a stony, cold countenance that showed only shallow contempt and quick rage rather than the restlessly shy smiles and quirky mirth of her childhood. The warmth of a human's touch became overbearing and sticky as she promptly rewired herself to yearn for the cold and distant respect of her parents rather than the tender affection that had been so easily given to Grace.

Swallowing, she watches through narrowed eyes at Rachel's seemingly innocent fingers as they quiver innately around the spoon. Suspicious eyes dart warily to the spoon, to slightly quirked lips, and finally to those dark gold-speckled eyes that widen naturally with lighthearted curiosity.

She remembers Finn's overwhelming closeness and tries to connect it to Rachel but the past shines through the thick veil of ice and a warm flush paints across as the memories flood her mind. The tender touch of lips to her cheek, the caress of a soft hand, and through the haziness of a dreamy subconscious the faint smell of peaches wafts to her senses.

All of this had been rather terrifying at the time, but she supposes they were nothing like Finn's overbearing hugs that last too long. They were almost…pleasurable, she supposes.

With a slight sigh, that could have been easily mistaken for a groan, she leans forward ever so slightly and parts her lips. Her eyelids flutter closed and she can hear Rachel's faint laugh as the spoon is brought close to her pink lips; Quinn shivers as the spoon clinks metallically against her teeth and she sips the soup in a way that she hopes is graceful.

When Rachel pulls back, Quinn gulps and leans back with a small smile. She shifts and rubs her hands over her thighs awkwardly as Rachel appraises her with those intensely dark eyes. Quinn notices that a healthy color has begun to drip back into her cheeks.

As the silence grows on, the two girls fall into a warm, sticky silence. Wandering eyes soon become locked on the other, and once disjointedly faint breaths become synchronized. And with each second, the accelerated pulse of each heart picks up the other's rhythm in a harmonized beat. Quinn blinks and tries to rip away, her breath becoming ragged as she attempts to increase the space between them.

In an attempt to gain an upper hand, Quinn appraises Rachel and sees the change in expression. Her eyelids have drooped a little in sleepiness and her smile had loosened – not gone, just softened. The look is nearly indescribable and it sends a little stressed flutter to contract in her tightened heartstrings, beating and pulsing at every pinpoint in her heart.

"I'm going to hug you now," Rachel says slowly, looking into Quinn's eyes as she comes up close.

Something about the way Rachel gives her every chance to back away from the affection paralyzes Quinn into the enclosing arms.

Rachel's small body soon smothers Quinn as she holds her close. Rachel's dark curls tickle Quinn's nose as her lips rest at the base of her ear. Despite being informed of the girl touching her, the contact still leaves her surprised and she flails awkwardly as the girl's warm body is pressed tightly against Quinn's front. "Thank you" Rachel sighs, and Quinn assumes that it was because of the soup, she would speak but her throat is spastically closing.

Nobody has ever really hugged her before, not without Quinn making the first move, neither has it felt this intimate before. Quinn's eyelids flutter closed and she sags into the girl's embrace, letting herself enjoy the moment. With Quinn's ear pressed so close, she can hear the steady pulse of Rachel's heart and feels the warm skin brush against her cheek with each breath.

There is a movement but Quinn keeps her eyes closed and isolates herself with this feeling. She can sense a hand hovering close to her face as the air around it fluctuates with its disturbance; but before she can sense what the hand is doing there, two gentle fingertips stroke down the bridge of her nose tantalizingly. The moment it happens, an embarrassing whimper breathes past her lips, she feels her skin tingle in delight, and she just melts.

Rachel murmurs something, but Quinn's ear is too distracted by the heavy thump of Rachel's heart to hear the deep rumble of her voice. But the words "interesting" and "kitten" stick out of the jumbled mass of noise.

They must have sat there for hours, or maybe not. Nothing makes sense right now. All that sticks out in her mind is the gentle stroke down the bridge of her nose and the thump of Rachel's steady heart.

"Quinn" A voice rumbles so deeply and coldly that it could never belong to Rachel Berry. An anxious flutter shivers through her heart as Quinn slowly falls out of the embrace, feeling dizzy and light. She turns towards the voice with weary eyes and wringing hands. Her lips flatten into a straight line, as her assumptions are made true by the two figures standing in the doorway in front of her. How long have her parents been standing there? Could they see her? The panicked thoughts finally knocks Quinn back into her protective shield of steel glass.

Standing up, she fixes the wrinkles from her skirt and feels her eyes dart wearily to her parents.

They stand in darkness, the light pools in from the hallway and illuminate everything around them but their expressions, leaving Quinn jumpy with anxiety of the unknown.

Russell stands strong and stiff, his strong hand lying possessively at the base of Judy's neck and his other hand flexing in the air by his waist. Judy, meanwhile, curls around him and looks more like accessory than a real person.

Despite being blind to their faces, she can still sense the aura of cold indifference exuding from their carefully chosen positions. Gulping, Quinn can hear Rachel struggle up from her position on the bed.

At hearing the girl struggle, Quinn breaks from her militant stance and helps Rachel up with a single hand. She watches apprehensively as Rachel stands with weak, wobbly legs and expects her to collapse in that first shaky moment.

However, being the curiously spontaneous creature that she is, Rachel straightens and stands strongly at the side of the bed. But instead of running up to meet Quinn's parents in an overbearing excitement that had greeted her, Rachel takes a _much _softer approach and chooses not to greet them at all. She stands there and watches as Russell takes a step forward and tows Judy with him. "Quinn, you know not to bring guests over uninvited" He says quietly. This is how the most stringent of his values are enforced, through a strict and quiet manner. It is the most terrifying kind.

Rachel seems to sense this and takes an almost impercievable step behind Quinn. Confused by her actions, Quinn tilts her head to see Rachel curling almost shyly behind Quinn's stiff form. But as she looks closer, she sees that it isn't timidity that makes Rachel look so small, it's fear.

Trepidation glimmers in those large, dark orbs like the bright shimmer of water against a bright sun. Her expression is completley unlike the benevolent and charming girl Quinn has been forced to meet. Everything has hardened ever so slightly; her smile has receeded until only the edges turn up faintly, and those wide eyes have turned cautious.

"Quinn, did you hear your father?" Judy speaks softly and looks through the girls in front of her through distant, pale eyes. As if she wasn't expected to be heard and was only going through the motions.

"Yes, I'm sorry" Quinn says quickly and rips her gaze from the odd girl hiding behind her. "Rachel here got sick and I offered to take her home and nurse her back into health" she says stiffly, each word sounding awkward on her tongue as if she were perfoming a badly written script.

Russell's features soften vaguely at the mention of honorable charity and lets the tension drop in the room as if it were an object to simply put down. Quinn quietly and subtly stores away the approval so that the warmth of it can be enjoyed later in solitude.

The shift in mood is apparent and both parents adjust their appearance to the quiet concern that is to be shown. "You poor child" is murmured quietly and quickly forgotten while Russell tips his head to observe the girl currently hiding behind Quinn.

"What is your name?" Russell asks and is met with an unforgiving silence.

"She is shy today, I guess" Quinn pipes in before the silence draws on for too long. "still recovering"

After a gentle nudge, Rachel peeks out and walks solemnly towards Russell and Judy. She holds herself with the dignity of a martyr and keeps the faint curve of a smile on her lips as she outstretches a slender hand.

"My name is Rachel Berry" She murmurs and slips her hand into Russells hard and calloused hand.

"It's always a pleasure to meet a new friend of my darling Quinnie" He says with a smile. Performing each word with such grandiose delight that Rachel begins to relax into the shake. Despite the fact that Russell's emotions usually run from cold to colder, he enacts the role of a proud father perfectly. "I'm Russell Fabray and this is my stunning wife Judy," He exclaims and puts his hand at the back of her neck, and rubs his thumb gently at the base. It was meant to look endearing but it just makes her look even more like a spineless puppet than before, and as if cued, Judy lets off a shining smile.

"Would you like to stay for dinner Rachel?" Judy chips in good-naturely, it was an empty request meant to make them sound like wonderful hosts. But by the way Rachel smiles, Quinn fears that she might actually accept the request.

"Rachel really must be getting back," She chirps and recieves a cold glance by Russell and seals her lips. She was supposed to let Rachel refuse on her own because now they seem unsincere. But nobody knows that Rachel is exactly the person to ignore the invisible rules surrounding them and actually accept the request. Quinn will never win.

"As much as I appreciate your request Mr. and Mrs. Fabray, I must refuse," Rachel pipes in, making the tension building up melt once again.

Rachel walks a little unsteadily down the steps and Quinn adjusts her stride so that she can continue to guide Rachel gently out of the house.

"What was that all about?" Quinn asks once they are both out of earshot.

"They are scarier all grown up" Is all she mumbles so quietly that Quinn almost misses it. But when it does finally register in her ears, it makes Quinn look down at Rachel in a strange new light. A forboding feeling rings through her mind like the bells of her church, chiming in a brassy reminder that Rachel isn't exactly normal.

The moment they are outside, a cold front collapses into them like a tidal wave and leaves them shivering. The sun has dipped below the horizon and left the day in an inky darkness.

Rachel walks ahead, comes out of reach from Quinn's guiding fingertips, and seems to walk straight into a wall of darkness. Expecting something to be said, Quinn waits and scuffs her feet against the harsh gravel and listens to the faint sounds of Rachel's restless footsteps walking around her.

Within moments, the girls are submerged into an inky, thick silence that opens the world up for different senses. All that can be heard is the soft crunch of gravel and the whistle of the wind.

What can be seen is only the small bulb of yellow light from the streetlight across the street and the soft, wispy vapor of the girls' breath in the frigid night. What can be felt is near to nothing as the chilly night air has made each movement stiff and disjointed and each limb numb with a cold soreness; the only thing safe from the wintry weather is held delicately beneath the breast of each girl and pounds a little harder with each shared breath.

Rachel has disappeared into the darkness, leaving only her shadow before Quinn's eyes. And those bright, chocolate eyes have been covered by the dark blanket of night and cuts the last string controlling Quinn a marionette. It leaves her alone with herself and suffocates the warm spell that had made her heart pulse so pathetically in ecstasy.

With each passing moment, the warmth recedes from her fingertips, lips, and toes and starts the slow, torturous crawl to its cold cage at the center of her chest.

"Quinn! Dinner," Russell calls from inside the house and breaks the silent spell between them.

"Bye Rachel" Quinn murmurs desolately and turns away from the shadow's excited wave.

She walks towards the faint light of the house and begins to feel her mind collect itself once again. With each step away from Rachel, her mind slowly steps back into its previous setting. And by the time she's back in her house, her skin crawls with the scalding memory of the warmth Rachel had pressed on her and her mind recoils skittishly.

Her mind was like a long line of ants following the routine of a straight line and Rachel was the disastrous leaf collapsing on the regulated road. Disorienting, yes, but eventually she would collect and skid around the interference and back into the straight and calculated line.

* * *

><p>~~X~~<p>

Santana sits against an oak tree, biting her lips in concentration as she rolls a small, blood red apple in her palms.

The angel sit cross-legged across from her, gazing intently at the luscious red apple.

It's hard to say how long they've been doing this since there is no sense of time here. There was really only a beginning and an end to the day, both of them emphasized by the blazing ring of bells. But she'd guess that it's been a few hours since she's first met the angel by the way the sun's begun to creep towards the horizon.

There is one thing that she can tell is that she and the blonde hit it off straight from the start.

Sure, there was that awkward transition moment of _Oh shit, you're not human and where the fuck am I_? But once they had jumped over that hurdle, everything became smooth and easy. With a twitch of her wrist, the apple flings into the air and within a blink of an eye, its gone, seemingly to have disappeared from thin air.

The blonde plops down next to Santana with the apple in her hands and a wide grin; with a sigh, she stretches her wings proudly and Santana watches as each feather gleams like little mirrors twinkling in the sun.

"Wow" Santana murmurs in awe, it's her only response, and its been the only response she's had all day.

Santana can't help but catch the smallest of details as she watches the angel bite into the apple. Like the way her brilliant teeth make little imprints on the red flesh, followed by a delicious crunch, and the way she pouts her lips to keep the juice from dribbling down her chin all the while those blue eyes dazzle like two sparkling sapphires. The angel quickly wipes the apple clean with the cloth of her white dress and throws it to Santana once again.

Without another word, Santana throws the apple again and watches as the angel disappears into a white flash and plops down with another bite on the apple. When the angel sits down beside her Santana notices the slight change in atmosphere. A deep ringing sound fills the air and Santana raises her head to the sound.

It rings once...twice...a third time...and then the world collapses into an eerie silence as the round vibration of sound dies around it. The angel throws the apple to the side and wipes her hands together as she begins to skip away.

Santana watches stiffly, unsure of what to do. She's heard the bells before she met the angel, but she always figured it was some kind of war cry and had lunged up a tree at the sound. But here was this angel, skipping away towards the sound and leaving the "hostile human" alone.

The angel goes about ten feet away from her before stopping, and then she flexes her wings and turns towards Santana with a cocked hip and quirked head.

"Aren't you coming?"

"Mm, no" She hums while the angel covers her mouth in a barely hidden giggle and skips back to Santana.

With a sigh, she grabs Santana's arm, and begins dragging her to what Santana believes to be certain doom. With this thought ringing clearly in her head, she tries to remain as heavy of a dead weight that she can be and insists that she will stay here under the oak tree, but the angel is persistent in her dragging.

This is especially awkward since she is still skipping, which only ends with Santana's arm being almost ripped from her sockets with each joyful drag. Eventually, Santana forces herself to walk along with the angel since she is too pretty to be armless. "Will you at least tell me what we are doing?"

"Sleeping of course. That was the calignosity bell! It's _bed-time_" She sing-songs and points to the canopy of trees where they had eaten soup. Angels collect like swarms of bees and darken the sky with their wings. _Shit_. An odd panicked shiver runs up her spine and she feels like running away screaming. But she bites her lip and chooses to look at the nice angel who doesn't hate her instead.

"No way in Hell am I going to be in the middle of _that_"

The angel frowns and looks back towards the sleeping area.

"Why?" She asks simply, as if she really doesn't see the collection of beasts who all despise her and probably wanted to scratch her eyes out while she slept. How could she understand? She was one of them.

"Because they all hate me and I would like to stay alive for at least another two years or so"  
>She had a quota of finishing High school before she started making reckless and irreversible decisions like joining a gang. Which is something easily offered to her in Lima Heights Adjacent.<p>

"Please, they don't hate you!" The angel sighs and Santana stares. "We don't hate anyone," She says more softly

"Except me. Who they want to kill"

"They just have to get used to you" She says finally and starts dragging Santana again.

Everybody was already lying down by the time the angel had dragged Santana to the proper spot.

Since the sun had receded beneath the hills, the only thing that could be seen were the flashing wings and reflective eyes. The rest was left to Santana's imagination as they lay collected on the floor.

The angel steps in front of her, or maybe Santana hides behind her but she'd like to pretend that it's the other way around, and they slowly make their way towards the group.

Abject fear coils up within her when they notice her because as if on cue, the relaxed wings stiffen and all at once what feels like one hundred pairs of eyes stare at her through the darkness. But they don't lunge at her as she'd expected, they must be too tired to be willing to disturb their sleeping habits and rip her apart.

But each pair of eyes follow them, or should she say _her_, as her friendly angel finds her an empty bed of leaves. Excellent. Why sleep safely at her oak tree when she could sleep on leaves with a bunch of monsters? Thank you, mysterious-blonde-angel-who-still-has-no-name. Maybe this was all a part of a plan.

Gulping, she lets the angel pull at her wrist and guide her down into a lying position. The eyes continue to watch her as she lies down so she directs her eyes towards the sky. The angel lays a gentle head on Santana's chest and tightens her hold over Santana's mid-section. The angel sighs and Santana feels her ears grow hot when the girl's restless fingers begin stroking the skin of her forearm.

"Rachel and I used to sleep like this, staring up at the stars and making little designs in the sky" The angel murmurs softly and dispersing any kind of uncomfortably snarky reply from Santana's lips. Smiling, she raises a hand and pats her angel's head endearingly. "Do you think Rachel is safe?"

_Hell no, that world is a ship going under and Rachel is on the bottom floor, trapped beneath the debris of the popular kid's sadistic pecking order_.

"She wasn't hurt the last time I saw her," Santana murmurs instead, not really having the heart to lie to her completely.

Gradually, the tension of the angels around her wears off with the safe, warm feeling of her friendly angel snuggling with her and what must be a million stars swirling overhead. "There are so many stars," She says without thinking and cringes. _Of course there are a lot of stars, you dumbass, it's the sky! _

But her angel doesn't laugh or snark like expected, she simply moves her head so that they are both staring out at the night in front of them.  
>"Are there less stars where you live?" She asks innocently, her voice is so sweet and soft that Santana lets herself believe that she isn't being ridiculed.<p>

"No, you just can't see them as well"

"Why?"

"The sky is just so full of shit, you can't see anything anymore" She sighs

"Oh," The girl says in a monotonic tone, most likely confused again. But no questions are asked, unless anybody would like to count: "How could anybody let their people poop into the sky?" as a question. Which she doesn't.

The two girls are plunged into a comfortable silence as Santana's mind begins to haze over with sleep. Her eyelids droop and she can feel her friend curl around her in a final position of sleep. And despite having slept with almost the entire school and even forcing some bittersweet affection from Quinn, she knows in this moment that she's never felt so warm before.

So cared for...and almost safe, if she could ignore the hundreds of winged creatures around her. At the feeling, an odd desire begins to eat at her brain, and making her nerves twitch with a need for to fulfill this desire.

"Can I give you a name?" She murmurs, and forces her eyes from the sky and onto the messy bed of blonde hair at her chest. A blonde strand tickles her lip as her angel moves slightly and rests her chin so that she is staring up at Santana with wide eyes.

But all that can really be seen are her round, dark pupils flashing back at her. The look reminds of her of the angels that surround her, the angels that she fears, and Santana knows that she had somehow created this girl into a completely different species than the others. Perhaps, not so subconsciously, she knows that she wants to name this girl so badly because of a selfish desire to keep her separated from the winged creatures that terrify her.  
>Silently, she hopes that the angel can't hear how impossibly fast her heart is beating.<p>

The angel breathes a soft "why?" into the cloth of Santana's uniform, her head growing increasingly heavy with her drooping eyelids.  
>Santana's lips twitch and she glances back up towards the sky, hoping to find something to calm her once again; she finds herself watching the dark sky swirl with stars of different colors. Blue, white, yellow, all of them shimmer with a pure sincerity.<p>

There are no planes to trick her with a seemingly beautiful shimmer, only to flash with sudden red lights and glide away in the night sky. And with the innocence of the pure night sky, Santana finds the right words forming themselves on her tongue.

"Because everybody should have a name,"

The answer is whispered so softly that it feels almost foreign as it breathes past her lips while only a few feet away an angel shivers in disgust. Movement surrounds them as angels turn over in their bed of leaves to tune them out, but her angel doesn't seem too upset. She tugs her lower lip between her teeth in consideration before gently nodding with another soft "okay".

There are a few more scoffs and scuffles but Santana just rolls her eyes and pays attention to this innocent soul cradled close to her.

In all honesty, she doesn't have to think so hard about what to name this girl. The name had come to her with such strength and promise that it could have been written out in bold letters on the angel's forehead.

"Brittany" She murmurs and hears the angel cuddle in close to her as she nods in approval.

With that, the aching desire ebbs from her mind again and leaves her muscles loose and mind relaxed, within moments of sleep. Smiling, she lets the name roll off her tongue in a whisper as her eyelids flutter closed.

"Brittany"

* * *

><p>~~ X ~~<p>

The faint pitter-patter of rain hits against the sidewalk, making Rachel's black shoes squeak as she walks to school, the shiny material gleaming in contrast to the gray cement.

The edges of her lips twitch upwards every now and then as her mind delves and swathes in the images from last night. Her body trembles with an excited energy for today and every day after it. She was feeling fantastic because not only has she finally dispelled all those confusing pains and worries of the human world, but she'd also completed her first and foremost mission of befriending Quinn Fabray.

Rachel can't wait to talk to Quinn again, see her, or maybe she'll just smile and wave.

Rachel can't remember a time when she was more excited for something, except maybe for going into the human world. Her extra clothes and showering supplies lay bundled up in her arms and she holds them close to her chest, holding it as some students may grasp their binder.

Walking up the front steps, she sees Noah leaning against the wall, glancing disinteresting at the students passing by. Every now and then, he would smirk and raise an arm for a hearty slap on the palm another student's hand, and of course would close one eye to a passing girl. A slap and a wink; Rachel found it all very interesting.

The seemingly violent and uncertain actions of these humans were viewed as playful and kind.

Rachel smiles a little wider and walks up to Noah, making sure to wave politely at the jocks around her who stop and stare at her. The mass of boys shift around her like a receding ocean, adjusting to her every move and making sure to never brush shoulders with her.

"Hello Noah!" She chirps and brushes through the space given to her, oblivious to the jocks that maneuver around her uneasily, their dark eyes flashing, and lips flattening like those of an angered dog.

Noah glances to her with wide eyes and then to the boys around him. A muscle in his neck tightens and his temples bulge from the tight clenching of his jaw. But all of this lasts only a moment, and before Rachel can blink again, an aloof smile replaces everything else and a nonchalant looseness overcomes his form.

"I got this guys" He growls and saunters over to Rachel. The boys behind him bump against one another as they watch with dark eyes. Rachel buzzes with excitement and thinks of giving him a welcome hug, since the previous one with Quinn was so successful. But just as he gets close enough to receive one, he grabs her wrist and throws her over his shoulder. Rachel gasps as she teeters on Noah's shoulder precariously.

The ground beneath her wavers with each unsteady step as Noah carries her away.  
>An open garbage can veers into view and Rachel yelps, kicking her legs and flailing her arms pathetically. She remembers the last time with all those horrid smells compiled with precariously thrown boys beside her; it was absolutely traumatizing. As he swings her up into the air, she closes her eyes tightly and waits for the impact of the smelly can of garbage.<p>

Instead, her feet meet the ground uncertainly as Noah puts her down on the ground. Rachel stumbles, wildly off balance, and throws her hands out for something to steady her. Her wings stretch and flitter within her cautiously, fluttering just beneath her skin like a comforting heartbeat. She feels a warm object under her hands and quickly sinks her nails into it.

"Hey!"

Rachel's eyes flash open and she finds Noah's irritable expression and outstretched arm, and then sees her nails grasped onto the bare flesh. Instinct drives her to rip her nails away and her stomach flips with the show of violence but she can feel a twisting heat of anger rearing up.

"What in the world are you doing?"

Noah rubs his arm and looks through half closed lids over the garbage can. Ever impatient, Rachel soon peeks her head up and looks over to where he stares and sees nothing.

The images soon click together and notices that the boys could not see them from behind this trash can. "Hmm," She leans back and feels a collapsing pain constrict in her chest. "I see" She murmurs and morphs her lips into a straight line.

"Hey, don't look at me like that. You should be thanking me right now, I just saved your life" He says and makes himself stand a little higher. Rachel glances to the garbage can and slowly rolls her eyes back to Noah.

"You moved me, rather unceremonially if I may add, to a garbage can. Why should I be pleased by this?' She murmurs, feeling rather glum. Or, at least, as glum as her emotions will allow. To be honest, she does feel a bit better that he didn't outright tell her that he was embarrassed to be around her.

"Because Berry, you are on the blacklist! Anyone else would have actually thrown you _into_ the trash." He says and smirks coquettishly at her. She sighs, dips her head, and shakes it slowly from side to side.

With a small, incredulous laugh, she feels her inverted wings dip and shudder with obvious disappointment. Noah shifts beside her and shoves his hands into his pockets. "Look, I don't like this whole blacklist thing either but it's a dog-eat-dog world and the Puckasaurus ain't gonna let himself be thrown in a trash can"

Rachel cringes with disgust. Do dogs really eat other dogs in this world? Who would let something like this occur? When she doesn't answer back, Noah sighs and shoves off his backpack. "Fine, here, take this" He mumbles and Rachel glances up to see the leather bound bag in his hand. "It'll do you good to hide all that shit you carry around in your arms," He murmurs sincerely. "It's not like I use it anyway."

Humming again, she levels him with a long and steady stare. He was rather...what is the word? Egotistical? Yes, but more than that. Mean, yes that was the word. Noah was mean.

Rachel pursed her lips and gently raised her hand to accept the bag, finding it easier to smile after she reassembled her clothing into the empty bag. It was rather handy, she supposes. Noah smiles back, his dark eyes shining genuinely and Rachel feels herself softening again, the buttery warmth she was used to feeling filled her chest again.

She pressed her lips tighter and swallowed down her new revelation about Noah Puckerman, feeling as though it didn't matter either way. She was starting to think that it was just a part of them. Maybe these humans were born with the aptitude of malice, and to blame them for it would be as unkind as it was for them to have use it. They didn't know how to live without it.

The bag feels light in her arms and she picks at the zipper. She watches the metal teeth close together and her clothes disappear inside the threaded black bag, the interlocked teeth glimmer as they interlock. She smiles up at Noah when he gently helps hoist the strap upon her shoulder, taking a small step back and adorning an even smaller smile.

"Thank you" She murmurs quietly and shyly puts her thumbs through the buckled black straps. She looks more human as the days go by, and she can't help but smile a little bit at the thought.

The backpack feels odd on her back and she can feel her wings press against it in attempt to get the weight off, but she holds the straps tighter against her and soon they settle back into complacency. The whole blacklist thing was on her mind and she wanted to ask Noah about it, but she's pretty sure she'll just get the same answer she's gotten every other time. No need to know _about _it, just know that you need to get _off_ it.

"Hey Noah?"

Noah doesn't look at her; actually, it seems as if her voice never even registered; he doesn't even blink. His attention has drifted away from her as clearly as if he had gotten up and walked away. Rachel cocks her head to the side and appraises her friend. Although he stands facing her, his shoulders are twisted away and he leans gently towards the quad.

His hands wring together slightly and his head is jerked up high, as if he were subtly trying to catch someone's attention by being miraculously taller. And his dark eyes are wide and almost innocent, resembling the tragic scene of a lost puppy.  
>"Noah?" Rachel says again, but Noah still doesn't answer. Sighing, Rachel steps up and imitates his position, as if mirroring him would help her see what he was seeing.<br>Following Noah's gaze, Rachel's eyes jump up the rain-splattered cement and towards the end of the quad. A herd of Cheerios moved across the school grounds.

Despite there being a large group of people standing hunched together, it was rather obvious to see whom Noah was gawking at. Because standing in the eye of the Cheerio storm is Quinn Fabray. Although her average height and common blonde hair is rather standard in the group, she harbors the ability to pull everyone's eyes to her, as if underneath her skin she were a magnet and everyone were made of metal. She stands alone in a serene silence while the groups of jabbering Cheerios fill in around her like a ring. None of them breaks in to talk to her and she doesn't turn to talk to them. It was a lonely and magnificent sight and almost immediately Rachel's heart thumps noisily against her chest at the sight.

"Noah" She whispers, "Why are you staring at Quinn?" Noah blinks slowly; his eyelashes moving in a dark flutter before he moves his head and breaks his dazed trance.

He stares at Rachel for a moment longer, his dark eyes boring into hers.

"You think I'm a stud, right Rachel?" He asks, driving the topic of conversation completely off subject. Rachel chews on her lip as she regards him carefully; he looked like a human to her, but perhaps this 'stud' was a good thing to be labeled as.

Rachel took a guess and smiled brightly, answering with her usual warm voice, "Of course you are!" Noah smiles a little at her grand gesture and Rachel felt a warm bloom of accomplishment in her chest.

"Yeah..." He murmurs and looks back over to Quinn, "Quinn doesn't seem to think so. She thinks I'm some Lima Loser, which is ironic since she's dating the king of Losertown." He says angrily, although, something in his voice makes the anger seem false, makes it seem almost sad.

It breaks a cold chill across her skin and makes her stomach churn. Rachel's head moves without command to stare at Quinn, the two of them watching her with mimicked expressions. Noah continues with a sigh, "Finn is such an idiot and she's so hot, I doubt he even knows what to do with her…" He trails off wistfully, pocketing his hands into his jeans and hooking his thumbs out awkwardly.

He sighs and Rachel nods silently, feeling her hands grow clammy with awkwardness; she considers herself an extremely intelligent person but if there was one excessively gray area in her intelligence, it is in the human practice of boy friends and girl friends.

The elders always skipped that section in education and warned them that such information was unnecessary and only caused problems in the past. Rachel, being the good student and listener, was sure to obey her Elder's warning.

"And the good Lord knows I want to get into her pants" He grumbles almost as an afterthought. Rachel's brow furrow in confusion and shoots a startled look towards her friend.

"But she's wearing a skirt." Rachel says incredulously, her eyes flickering over Noah's pants – they were a dull black and dusted with gray, but they appeared fitting on him – Rachel wasn't sure why he would want Quinn's pants, or her skirt for that matter. Noah blinks and tilted his head to stare at Rachel for a moment or two, his lips curling into a larger smile. With a warm chuckle, he thumps her on the back.

"You're funny Berry" He laughs again and throws his arm around her shoulder, the unintentional joke seems to puff up his confidence again because he stands a little straighter and holds his cocky smirk to his lips. "Listen, I like Finn...He's my bro and he's perfect with all that emotional relationship crap, but those skirts are _crunchy toast_ and the Puckster gets what he wants" He says just as the front row of Cheerios begin to do twirls and high kicks. "And what the Puckster_ wants_ is Quinn Fabray in his bed." Rachel's eyes widen and a flush of warmth pool into her cheeks. She knew what that meant. Her breath came out oddly hitched and unstable, her stomach twisting inside – which was a curious matter since she's sure she had breakfast this morning.

"Oh...I-I'm sorry." Rachel says uncertainly, sounding more like a question than any comfort she was meant to bring. Her blush burns her cheeks until Noah glances down at her and cocks his head to the side with a slight smile.

"Aw, you're blushing" He leans down and puts his hand under her chin, causing a violent ticklish feeling right where his fingers brush her skin.

Yelping, she knocks herself onto the wall wildly with interspersed gasps, giggles, and screams. "Jeez, you're ticklish" He says and backs up with his hands up over his head.

"I-I-yes, yes I am," She gasps against the painful feeling of her wings stretching against her skin. It felt like her back was a flimsy piece of elastic keeping back a load of bricks. It kept stretching and just barely holding them back before their restlessness settled down again. It wouldn't keep up for much longer, not only did she not like feeling cramped like this, but it was also physically and emotionally draining to keep such an intimate part of herself hidden away.

"Oh, hey! Look, Quinn's looking over here...You think she's looking at me?" He chatters like an excited bird and throws his arm around Rachel so that her head nuzzled into his chest. It was okay, kind of overwhelming...but not unpleasant...not as good as it had been hugging Quinn.

It takes a little longer to find Quinn again the second time, especially since her face now presses against Noah's warm chest, but Rachel finds her amongst the hoards of Cheerios and Jocks. She is standing somewhat aimlessly, like she didn't know why she was standing there or how to move away.

The tips of her white tennis shoes touched one another as her feet turned inwards almost shyly; and her arms droop from their position on her hips until they were hanging loosely at her sides.

But it was her face that really caught Rachel's attention; pink lips were parted slightly, as if wanting to form words bursting from a stubborn tongue, and her eyes, though so far away, were directed at a certain direction. Those eyes with green and gold swirling in the middle, were not focused on Noah Puckerman but instead bored straight into Rachel.

Rachel spares a glance to Noah, sees a mysterious smile on his lips and an almost modest gleam to his eyes, and knew that he could see the same girl Rachel was seeing. An odd collapsing pain collects in her chest and she throws a fisted hand against her chest to stop her heart's wild palpitations. "Do you think I have a chance with her?" He asks deeply as if his pride were weighing down his voice.

"Yeah, sure you do" Rachel says with a hum, and offers a small smile to Quinn, who immediately ducks her head and turns away. But for the small flash of a second, Rachel could see those pink lips stretching upwards.

Within that moment, there is a slight disturbance in the crowd. The Cheerios step back and a group of sturdy boys step up in their jackets of red and white, each and every one of them holding grim expressions and slushie filled cups.

"Well shit" Noah sighs and spits on the ground, causing one Jock to smirk as the wall lumbers towards them. "This is what I get for hanging out with you," He sighs and brushes in front of Rachel, hiding her. "These shit-head bastards are quick" He laughs and turns back to her, a small crooked smile quirking on his lips, and almost nervously, he runs a hand down his black mowhawk. Rachel peeks out from under his arms to the gathering group of Jocks and Cheerleaders, forming an almost imperceptive wall. Dread bubbles and hardens like burned sugar at the bottom of her stomach. "You might as well hide behind me, it won't stop all of the slushies but it'll stop the majority" He sighs again and dips his head. "Shit"

"I don't understand," She whispers into his shoulder. Quinn is her friend. She sighs and her cheek presses hard against his back as her eyes stare at the lined fabric of his jacket instead of the upcoming cups of humiliation and stinging syrup.

"This is how it is Berry, you're up one day feelin' like a celebrity and the next you're sitting in the grime like the others, for no explanation at all. It's just how the game goes," He says as the Jock throws the first slushie.

* * *

><p>~~ X ~<p>

She looks different"

"Shh...Be quiet, or she'll kill us"

"But she doesn't look how they do in the stories..."

"Do you think that will make any difference?"

"Are you sure she's human?"

"Stay back! She's dangerous, remember?"

"Shh…"

Brittany sighs and runs a gentle hand through the soft, silky heads of the young angels that have surrounded her. One by one, the curious whispers stop and their heads turn gently away from the sleeping human and towards her.

Brittany smiles softly as her hand stops at a particularly delicate girl and runs her fingertips down the locks of blonde hair, down the simple, pale eyes, and button nose until they rest at her round chin. Giving a gentle squeeze, she watches as the angel responds with a toothy grin, her lips curling differently than the others…as if it took an extra effort to do such a simple task.

Each child has their attention on Brittany now and it allows a breathy sigh from Santana to go unnoticed.

"She's homesick, and scared," She murmurs and the children cock their heads, their dark veins flashing with fragility as they pulse so close to the surface. "Imagine if you were in her situation"

"We'd be dead" The blonde angel slurs and Brittany squeezes her chin again as she feels her heart sputter at the thought of Rachel alone in that cold world right now.

"We can't be sure of that" She murmurs and pinches an angel's nose, making them giggle softly. Their shoulders have loosened since they've turned away from the human and they now sit on their knees with their hands on their thighs as they look up to her expectantly. The children look up to her, and not just because she's tall, but because they can relate to her.

She's the oldest and biggest kid they know, they will listen to what she has to say. "Think of our dearest fallen angel, stuck in the human world at this very moment. Think of her and treat this human how you wish Rachel to be treated" She says finally and stares at each pair of eyes until she can see understanding flicker in each of them.

If only the adults could be as easily persuaded as these children, but their memories are stronger and they've had more time for the nightmares to compact in their minds…And the Elders…Well, Brittany fears that they shall never be convinced with their facts to tightly wound up with their fear.

Quietly, they turn back towards Santana and stare solemnly for a moment until the little blonde angel crawls from Brittany's kind grasp and towards the human. The damp soil dips softly as she leans her knees into its soft surface and sits beside Santana. The angels around her hold their breaths as she rests a hand on Santana's forehead.

Everybody moves back collectively, their young eyes flashing with fear as the girl goes closer than anybody could imagine coming to a human. Her short fingers jump slightly as Santana moves, as if surprised by the life thrumming in the body of their nightmares.

Five little fingers move along the slight forehead like little legs as she brushes a strand of raven black hair from her face. As the angel examines, the world grows silent around them. Even the birds stop their continuous song long enough to watch the scene above them before bobbing around on their perch and flittering away.

The tiny blonde lets both hands touch the human's face now as the human's compliance allows her confidence to build. Her eyebrows knit together with concentration as her fingertips brush against the thin eyebrows, twitching pink lips, and the soft spot of her temple where a little blue vein pulses.

Finally, she pulls back and turns towards Brittany and the other angels. An awestruck expression is sketched across her face and registers in those glassy eyes.

"She's just like us"

At hearing this, the rest of the children surge forward. Each one of them wanting to claim their own discoveries with the unconsious human.

With the extra hands prodding her, Santana convulses violently into awareness. Lashing her arms about and swinging her legs, she sits up and jumps back a few feet from the angels. Her dark eyes are nearly black and her face flushes from the sudden jump from peaceful sleep into a stressed survival mode.

But the children are not deterred by her sudden movements. They are immune to the fear that plagues the adults and crawls towards her eagerly.

"Stop! Stop it" Santana yelps and stumbles back as greedy hands prod and poke at her face.

"Santana! I told you that they'd like you! Just gotta give them a chance!" Brittany yells into the mass of wings and sees Santana's face between the flapping feathers, contorted with shock and fear.

"Make them hate me again," She groans as one angel cuddles into her side and throws their arms around her.

* * *

><p>~~ X ~~<p>

_Whoosh_

The cold water makes Rachel's ears pop as she holds her head under the sink. As the blood begins to collect in her head from being upside down too long, she listens to the _whoosh _of the water and replaces it with the bitter sneers of the Jocks.

It's obvious what the slushie had meant. The intention was dispersed subtly through the eyes of each Jock. Although the bodies had created a wall to cover the true person behind the attack it was obvious that it was no one other than Quinn's persuasion that had caused the slushie facial. It was Quinn's impersonalized way of saying that not only did yesterday never happen but that we are not and never will be friends.

It's surprising how much she's absorbed over these few short weeks of being in the human world. She never expected to understand any of their actions, but it must have seeped into her mind somehow and has now just awakened by the cold slap of slushy ice. Her thoughts and theories lay on every inch of her mind, color coded, organized, and ready to be investigated.

And now that she has time to magnify each word with her mind's eye and analyze each action, it all makes sense now. She's strewn apart every piece of Quinn until she was bare and put her back together again and feels a cold feeling of satisfaction in knowing that there is no more mystery in the girl. Rachel's drained every inky drop of the curious darkness within Quinn and has left her dry and shallow.

Quinn is fake; at a young age she decided that the person that she used to be was inadequate and threw her out without a second glance. The person everybody sees now is a mirage of the desires and expectations others had molded her into. Her every action is made from a plan she had devised early in life and every one _around_ her is a part of the plan.

Finn softens her image and sweetens people's view of them, Santana was some sort of bodyguard who kept people away, Puck was a replacement to both keep close and at a distance, and Rachel…She doesn't know what she is in Quinn's mind yet. But her heavy heart tortures her and whispers in broken little thumps that she is an enemy.

"You've been in there too long" A soft, husky voice reaches Rachel's ears and she jerks up and manages to hit her head against the faucet. Groaning, she holds her head and stands up slowly, making sure that there were no objects to hurt her head any further on the way. The voice is right; her head feels fuzzy and throbs with its own pulse at her temples. Before having fully recovered from being upside down too long, she responds.

"Yes, well…Washing the hair is a crucial part to cleaning up a slushie facial and if not done adequately it will be sticky for the entire day," she says this and turns around to meet the voice. Immediately, she flinches and turns towards the counter once again, distracting herself by rummaging through her backpack.

Rachel waits for another attack, for another rant about how she and Rachel could never be friends, or even a demand for Rachel to stay away from Finn. But Quinn just stands there and eventually Rachel goes back to cleaning up.

She gets almost completely changed before Quinn tries to catch her attention again. It's as she is pulling her new argyle sweater over her head when she notices that Quinn is not where Rachel last saw her.

Quinn has swooped in closer and waits for Rachel to come away with free hands. The moment Rachel pulls down the sweater; she sees a wrapped candy bar on the counter in front of her. Two elegantly long fingers are pressed gently into the candy bar and pushes it down the counter towards Rachel.

Rachel's eyebrows knit together as the candy bar scratches and crawls its way towards her and glances back to Quinn.

Quinn is biting her lip shyly as she keeps her eyes focused on moving the candy bar. Rachel takes the bar and turns it over in her hand, feeling a familiar rush of power at the sound of Quinn's soft breath.

It was like holding that old stuffed animal, as if the kind gesture was an intimate part of Quinn, like a soft spot in her armor.

No, no that isn't right because Quinn doesn't care about her.

Biting her lip, she runs the candy bar over her hands and thinks about what to do with it. For an awful moment, she considers throwing it into the trash just to see if Quinn would feel the same cold slap of rejection that has been thrust upon Rachel time and time again. But she bites the urge down and chases it down into a cage somewhere deep inside of herself. It was a human impulse and an extremely dangerous one at that.

"Just in case you forget to eat again" Quinn husks and probes Rachel's expression for any traceable sign of affection or appreciation.

After a moment of Rachel staring blankly at Quinn through the mirror, her eyes lower and she steps away and trains her expression to look cool and detached once again. "Well, that's it…I figured the Glee club couldn't survive if you were passing out every other day" She says and seems to cringe at her own words. Rachel feels her eyebrows raise, surprise sparkling in her chest from the curious way Quinn is acting.

Mystery starts to blur her shape again, and when Quinn shakes her head and spins around to leave, she steals the clear-cut definition of herself on the way out. Quinn's form dips back into the black night of mystery and everything becomes blurry again.

The faucet drips every few seconds and harmonizes with the fading steps of Quinn's retreating form. Rachel stares at the letters of the bar for a moment before putting it down onto the bag and leaning onto the counter.

She stares out in front of her for a long time and tries to decipher what this all means and how to define Quinn.

But it's no use, her mind is frazzled by what had just happened; but she knows that she will most likely have to start from scratch, or at least something close to that.

Tipping her head back, she stares at the ceiling and feels her heart jump onto confused rhythms of disjointed palpitations. After another second and three little drips onto the counter Rachel lets herself release the long breath she had been unconsciously holding.

And with the dispersing breath, she feels relief dislodge from the tensions within her and spews it out into the room with another sigh until the relief fills every inch of the room.

* * *

><p>~~ X ~~<p>

The auditorium seat feels wonderful against Quinn's aching back and she rolls her neck back and lets her eyelids droop with the soothing darkness of the dimmed lights. So nice compared to the constant vibrancy of the Cheerio uniforms kicking and jumping around her.

Like the gentle cradle of a rocking mother, Quinn rolls her chair back and forth into a rocking rhythm until her chest is thrumming with a synthetic and self-induced comfort. Tapping her fingers against each seat, she waits for the spotlight to flash on at the stage.

When it does, she can see Rachel stroll up to the front of the stage with those passionate eyes and brilliant smile. It is so uncommon for anybody other than Rachel to sing anymore, and for anybody on the club Quinn is sure that this fact is devastating to them. But_ she_prefers it.

Finn lumbers up beside Rachel and taps her other shoulder in a goofy charm that seems to both startle and enthrall Rachel immediately. She gives an open-mouthed smile and turns around dramatically as if she were trying to chase her own tail, and giggles to Finn.

Quinn narrows her eyes, scowls at the boy before she remembers that the boy is her boyfriend, and is supposed to hold a special place in her heart. Quickly, she trains her features and sits back to appreciate her boyfriend's boyish quirkiness.

It is this exact foolish ridiculousness that Quinn tries to hard to control within herself. She doesn't doubt for one moment that if she let herself slip as much as Rachel's presence allows her too, then she herself would be prancing on that stage like a Neanderthal and poking at Rachel's sides.  
>Oops, there's that bitterness again.<p>

Sighing, she licks her lips, forces her thoughts from delving into the deep, dark corners of her mind, and focuses on trivial things like Rachel's ugly sweaters. Honestly, how stupid was she to let Finn buy Rachel clothes? And now of course Rachel adores them...The skirts aren't too bad though. Quinn cocks her head and examines the designed fabric that seems to cut off so quickly.

"Alright Rachel, what would you like to sing for us now?" Mr. Shue sighs tiredly, seeming to have mixed feelings about letting Rachel into the club.  
>"Another solo for Miss Rachel Berry, surprise, surprise" someone sighs and another one cackles.<p>

The voices belong to either Kurt or Mercedes obviously; she has never cared to differentiate the two of them. Usually, they just recycle the same snarky comments until eventually they just kind of melted together into one person in her mind.

Rachel beams, oblivious to the blatant contempt being thrown at her.

"Thank you, Mr. Shuester. I would like to start off with a song I have only recently discovered that I find particularly fantastic and would like to share with all of you. Forgive me for I may be a little bit rusty, since I've only just heard the song," She somehow says in one breath and flashes a Broadway smile to the depressed club in front of her.

"Rusty, right, as if we are going to believe that. Just admit you're a diva who loves the sound of he own voice! We'll get along better!" One voice begins and the other finishes with a snickering quip of "No we won't"

Despite the comments, Rachel centers herself at the stage and only glances up once she's prepared. And when she does finally look at them, it's only to throw them a bright smile and quick wave before the music begins.

The auditorium falls into almost complete silence and everything but the spotlight on Rachel dims. Rachel licks her lips as the music begins to build, her hands clenching and unclenching in a subtle fit of anxiety. Taking a deep breath, Rachel seems to fall into a completely different world away from snickering divas, blinding lights, and Mr. Shue's hairspray toxins. Her dark eyes find their way to the end of the auditorium, as if searching for somebody in the back of the room.

Quinn gulps and slinks low in her seat, but it's useless.

Chocolate eyes have locked on and Quinn finds herself helpless to their magnetic pull. Quinn is under Rachel's spell and the only muscle within her able to move jumps into her throat in heartbreaking joy.

"_Dear friend, as you know your flowers are withering..." _the voice begins and Quinn's eyelids immediately flutter. Just like every other time, she feels herself overcome with the power of Rachel's voice and feels her body tremble under the force of its passionate electricity. Her skin bubbles up like blisters into gooseflesh and her the sensitive hairs on her neck and arm stick up like before.

"_Your mother's gone insane, your leaves have drifted away...But the clouds are clearing up,  
>and I've come reveling. But incandescently, like a bastard on the burning sea..." <em>

At the faintest break in the song, Quinn's lips twitch upwards and she closes her eyes fully and lets herself get swept up with the surreal waves threatening to blow her away.

"_You're just like you're father, buried deep under the water. You're resting on your laurels and stepping on my toes..._"  
>Something about the lyrics feels somewhat familiar...She knows she's heard this song before, but it just feels...different. Her heart slowly climbs down from her throat and seems to pump with a slow trepidation.<p>

"_Whose side are you on? What side is this anyway? Put down your sword and crown...Come lay with me on the ground,"_

Quinn's eyelids flash open at the lyrics and she finds Finn and Rachel dancing together. One-step forward, two steps back, side step, side step. Finn has his head tilted down and a little smirk tilting his lips, but Rachel isn't looking at him. Her eyes are still locked onto the shadow that is supposed to be concealing her presence. Can Rachel see through it?

"_You come beating like moth's wings, spastic and violent, whipping me into a storm. Shaking me down to the core...But you run away from me_"  
>Rachel throws herself into this last sentence, forcing Quinn to feel every rise and fall of urgency in her voice, and it makes her feel sweaty and anxious.<p>

"_And you left me shimmering, like diamond wedding rings spinning dizzily on the floor_"

The club leaves once Rachel finishes her song to either practice dance routines or simply go home, Quinn could care less. All her mind can focus is the painfully soft whisper of Rachel's voice during the last stanza.

The song didn't call for it but it made Quinn shiver in all ways, right and wrong.

"_You're just like your father, buried deep under the water. You're resting on your laurels and stepping on my toes. Whose side are you on? What side is this anyway? Put down your sword and crown...Come lay with me on the ground..."_

* * *

><p><strong>Woo...So tired.<strong>

**Reviews = 3**

**yay. I know Santana is OOC. But It's AU and I'd like to imagine this is how Santana would end up without having Brittany there to lean on in her world.**


	8. Chapter 8

The Looking Glass

Chapter 8

**Yikes! Remember how I said that my schedule will becoming lighter and thus allow me more time to write? Lol. Crazy stuff.**

**Anyway, Enjoy!**

**This chapter is far too long but don't be discouraged! I honestly tried to slim it down but every part of it is important! **

* * *

><p>The past two weeks have been slow, dripping slowly by her like molasses pouring from a bottle, each day slipping past Rachel's fingers in a slow and sticky mess.<p>

Each day is more complicated than the last, and it seems as if the faintest weight thrown on her shoulders from the previous day carries on until it is accumulated into something rather messy. She had to figure somethings out.

She finds it odd that she had wasted so much time acting so thoughtlessly. Not eating? Practically _letting_ Santana slip into her home? It baffles her, in an extremely frustrating way that makes her want to pound her fists against her skull.

_How _had she managed so many days without a single thought of _evaluating _these strange, brutal animals that had first sparked her curiosity? Although, she supposes that she must give herself some credit as she hadn't expected half of the things that had occurred walking into this. Things like having her only key back home being stolen, or slushies.

Not anymore. The last two weeks have been a change. Rachel has come to school every day prepared, pretending to be the perfect human ever since. She's kept her head down, attended the proper classes, and observed. Or, in other words: she found a notebook and pencil discarded rather uceremonially on the side of the road and has been documenting everything she has seen ever since.

The backpack Noah gave her has proven to be extremely helpful to her cause because she now carries her clothes, the notebook and pencil, a dictionary, and the snacks in it.

And at the end of each week she collapses on the same pile of hay and opens her buzzing mind to the facts that have condensed together in her mind like magnets. Each separate strand of clues unthreads themselves from the condensed blanket of details smothering her mind and waft from her like a morning fog.

With painstaking patience and diligence, she picks apart each clue independently and analyzes each angle of it until she is ready to tie them all back together with an explanation.

And now, Rachel slips into the barn and takes off her backpack, letting the load of responsibilities slide off along with the bag. The moment the bag hits the floor, her wings spring out from hiding and flap desperately in attempt to work out all the kinks and cramps from being repressed for so long. Collapsing gently on the soft hay, she weaves her fingers into the warm, scratchy straws and leans her head against the stack with a deep sigh.

Quietly, she lets herself indulge in the steps of releasing the human pains of the day before tearing into inspection.

_Step one: relax._

A simple task, and she lets a smile spread across her lips as her wings stretch; they flap out until little jolts shoot down her spine and she lets her feathers ruffle and spread as easily as curling her toes.

Sighing, she stretches her arms and massages the bruises and twitches from her sore legs until she is limber and relaxed into the soft pile of hay.

_Relax, check._

_Step two: find a worthy companion._

Without further ado, Rachel looks about her small cabin and whistles softly, cooing to her small friend, silently bidding for it to come out from hiding. As promised,Berryslowly untangles himself from the shadows and hisses at her from his high throne of hay.

With his teeth bared, black tail flicking, and piercing yellow eyes flashing it cannot be denied that the cat looked very intimidating. But Rachel knew better than to be cowed by such displays. By holding back a smile, she manages a soft crooning sound, and rubs her forefingers together until the loud hissing becomes subdued mewls.

After a few moments Berry wavers from his throne of hay. It only takes a few more crooning sounds before he is scrambling towards her desperately, and having forgotten his arrogant dignity at his pile of straw he collapses into her side without a problem and nuzzles his head into her hand with a purr. What a silly kitten.

Smiling, she runs two fingers down the bridge of his nose. _Find a worthy companion. Check, and check._

_Step three: Eat. _

This step, personally, is her favorite. Rummaging through her bag, she grabs a little baggie of something delectable called Cheetos and throws a handful into her mouth. Humming, she tips her head back and savors the overly cheesy tang of the crunchy chips.

_Eat, check._

Now, to get down to business. With a quiet smile, she pulls out a bedazzled notebook and starts at page one. She had organized the notebook into things that confused or interested her. So at the top of the first one, she had written out the name Santana in big letters and put beneath it, "The Santana Situation".

It wouldn't take the most observant person to notice the distinct reaction to Santana's absence. There were whispers and anxious talk of murder, and in almost no time at all men began combing the forests.

They appeared almost randomly, simply materializing on school campus one day with lights in hand and unnerving objects hanging precariously on their belts; they were dressed as black as the night and acted no less mysterious. "Dressed to kill," people would murmur as they walked past the dogs and grim faced men. Rachel personally didn't know what that meant, but the connotations of the word did nothing to calm her nerves.

These men spent long hours of the day interviewing students at random and pointing their howling dogs arbitrarily. Always agitated and tired, they held themselves with authority and growled into rectangular boxes called "walkie-talkies".

And while these Police – as people called them – investigated the murder that never occurred, the students of McKinley declared their own investigation on who had finally cracked and called the Police. The act of "calling the police" seemed to have been seriously delayed than the norm because Santana apparently had quite the record of disappearing randomly for duration of a couple of weeks. And almost every time, just when people would begin to crack and show their true fears over the careless teen's disappearance, she would suddenly show up with a nice tan and everybody's hearts in her hand.

People mulled over the investigation for a total of three minutes, then proceeded to give up with a lazy shrug and pin it on the most obvious suspects: her parents. It seemed like the obvious choice, and despite the fact that her parents have yet to comment on Santana's absence, the people ofLimawere determined to pin it on grief-stricken parents and move on.

However, had anyone been paying the least bit of attention as Rachel had been, they would have seen the longing looks Quinn Fabray would often cast out the windows as if waiting to see the cocky girl striding towards the school in her usual mocking cadence.

Nobody could have possibly noticed the tiny glances to her phone or the way she'd run her thumb over the screen, as if waiting for something new to flash before her eyes. Or notice that after a teacher would begin to drone on about something senseless, a small smile would crack at the edges of Quinn's lips and she'd glance to her left as if expecting to see Santana brooding right beside her.

Nobody saw the flash of desolation in her eyes after the realization that the text would never come, or the snarky glance would never be returned. With all of these things considered, it really only makes sense that Quinn would have been the one to finally report the disappearance. It's rather obvious really; anybody willing to look long enough could have figured out that it was actually Quinn Fabray who called the Police.

_Quinn…_

How is it that all of her thoughts seem to end with that single word?

If understanding the human world was like untangling a ball of string, Quinn was the unending string that seemed to entangle with everything else. No matter how much Rachel tries to pick out an independent string and decode it separately, eventually it always comes back into the tight, tangled mess that is Quinn Fabray.

The faint crinkling of the Cheetos bag brings her out of her musings for a moment long enough to notice the faint shadows stretching across the barn, indicating how much time has been eaten up.

Looking down at her half empty bag, she reaches in and grabs a crunchy cheeto and turns its cheesy, crooked form over in her hands before popping it into her mouth. Her heart picks up at the faint explosion of flavor that bursts across her tongue; she can never quite get used to the wonderful food of this world.

Remembering how she had received these crunchy little delights pulls her mind back into the solitude of analyzing once again. She licks her fingers clean from the cheesy powder and flips the pages of her small notebook until she gets to the slightly decorated page titled Quinn.

At first, it was a surprise that Quinn's apparent soft spot for her hadn't hardened up yet, and that she was still receiving little goodies throughout the day.

Of course, Quinn had put the Cheetos in her bag while she "wasn't paying attention". Which is a silly thought to begin with because Rachel is always paying attention. Questions had bubbled up at the sight of the bag. Why couldn't she just give it to her in person? Would it really ruin her reputation? Was that even the problem? What do Cheetos taste like anyway?

She remembers the first time she'd tasted them...The cheesy powder had literally exploded across her tongue. It was almost overwhelming, how good it tasted. She'd been sure to eat them noisily in front of Quinn at any chance she got.

And now, after two weeks of Cheetos, cliff bars, carrots, and another delicacy called Oreos being stuffed secretly into her backpack...she is still without the slight indication as to why.

With a sigh, she flips to another page in her notebook. Her eyelids are heavy now andBerryis already asleep in her lap. All things considered, she knows she won't be awake for much longer.

The last problem she can bother to think about is the relationship with Finn and Quinn. Eventually, Rachel had snapped and looked up the definition of relationship in the school library. Which, she will admit was a rather thrilling experience that she will have to explore another day. She's never seen such a large collection of books in one place. But at the time she could not be deterred by the overwhelming amount of knowledge that had been collecting dust in that library for she came in looking for one thing.

The definition of relationship, which connects to terms such as boyfriend and girlfriend, is a term of possession that defines a connection, whether it be emotional or physical, between people. It was somewhat fascinating to learn that such a word existed.

She knew of the word before coming here, but it held so little meaning back home that it was intriguing for such a word to be the basis of everything in the human world. It is obvious that the word's importance in the world leaks into humanity's longing for possessing and labeling things.

It is such a strong desire that they created a word that could kindly define _owning_ a person. At least, that's what she thought at first; it wasn't until she began talking to Finn about Quinn that she could see another side of the word. He would sit beside her on the piano, under the pretense of singing lessons, and talk to her in low, murmuring tones about anything that was on his mind. And truth be told, what was usually on his mind was Quinn. It seemed that she and Finn shared that in common.

At first, Rachel had been disappointed because she had truly wanted to help Finn for the sake of the Glee club. Sectionals _were_ coming up, and it seemed as if she was the only one to be truly concerned for it. This is truly saying something considering the fact that she learned the meaning of sectionals only a little while ago. But her curiosity, as well as the desire to be a good friend, kicked in as their time progressed.

He would sit on the chair beside her and listen to her play a few chords on the piano and shuffle a little bit, seeming to squirm with anxiety. Rachel would glance over to him and feel a great deal of pity for him. She can't quite find a reasonable answer as to why she feels this whenever she is with him except for maybe his mannerisms. The way he talks and acts reminds her of a scorned child.

They began sharing information, Finn would mumble about a few key habits in Quinn's personality and Rachel would in turn give him the information she has gathered about the girl.

It became a habit for them to come into the auditorium every day before Glee club for "singing lessons". While Rachel has to admit she gave away more information about Quinn than what Finn gave her, he did talk once and a while about a nice and safe future Quinn had planned out for them. A future that involved them getting married, a white picket fence, two children, Burt's auto shop, and real-estate.

Rachel had been repulsed by the conversation, and had asked him kindly to cease telling her immediately. There is something very wrong about planning out one's future with so much detail. This disgust was the very reason she left home. She would like to think that such dull living remained only in the Angel world, because if it doesn't...What's the point of her being here?

However, later that day once she had rubbed down the goose bumps of distress from her arms, she looked up the definition of marriage; and she thinks she finally understands what the word _relationship_ truly means to humanity.

Marriage is the social institution under which a man and woman establish their decision to live as husband and wife, and in that definition it doesn't describe one owning the other. But rather an equality of possession between two people. And it made sense, for surely; the strong desire to own and label something must have branched off the even stronger desire to belong to something, or someone.

It was a _very_ exciting revelation, but unfortunately, in the big scheme of things it does almost nothing to help her decipher and understand the twisted confusion of mankind.

Either way, it is a step closer. And tomorrow, she will go back to school and try again.

~~X~~

How can one possibly explain the past few weeks? Santana can't even explain how she got here, in this crazy world where the sun always shines and there are people with wings. But strangely enough, she's learned to...love it. She loves everything about this place from the routine of the bells to the way the sun warms her back without feeling overwhelming.

And...She loves the angels. Every one of them. Though she will never admit to it out loud since she has them convinced that there is a generous layer of contempt she has for them. But in actuality, they are so pathetic and pitiful that she had no choice but to stoop down to their level and fall for all their obnoxious kindness and naive innocence.

Her only explanation for this reaction within her is that this world is so bizarre, like living on the other side of the mirror where right is left and up is down, and she's begun to adapt to it.

She remembers the first day she _knew_ that there was no way she could be terrified of these creatures.

They had finally put together a hearing and were wondering on what to do with her. The angels had collected around her and were buzzing with anxious conversation asBrittanysat beside her, whistling to the birds in the trees. The "elders" stood in front of her, their hoods covering their faces in a cute attempt to appear ominous. At the time, she had been frightened by this act and had decided to react with snark

So when they went on with their debate on what to do with her, she interjected with "why don't you just kill me?" and quirked an eyebrow.

A few angels on the outer rink of the circle gasped, and she's pretty sure she heard one of them whimper. The elders looked around them and nervously cleared their throats before moving on. She'd been so confused that she remained silent as they recorded the days she had been here as well as what has happened in her presence. She only spoke up again when they broached the subject of the _Looking Glass Key_.

"Human called Santana, we have good reason to believe that you have the Key to the Looking Glass in your possession. This key has kept the balance between the human and angel worlds for centuries, and we would like for it to continue its job of keeping our worlds separate."

Santana looked down at the necklace in her hands. Her fingertips brushed against the pulsating bead in the middle and feels warmth beat against her skin as her thumb ran down the edges of the wings of the necklace. She still couldn't believe that this little thing is what brought her here. Well, technically Rachel holding her under the water brought her here. But still, it's creating such a commotion.

Keeping the peace between the two worlds? Yeah right.

There was a quiet shuffling and she looked up to see that the oldest elder had shuffled forward. His entire frame shook and he seemed to move with great difficulty, she could hear his shaky breaths until she was sure that he was about to die right in front of her.

But then, he calmed down a bit and slipped his wrinkled and vein-riddled hand out from under his robe and held his palm open to her; very quietly, he spoke in a shaky voice. "Please human, we do not ask much of you. We only wish to keep peace with the humans. Please return the Key to us, please"

Santana had been so shocked. She's never heard anything more pathetic and pleading from something that was supposed to terrify her. Glancing to her left, she seesBrittanybeside her with those bright blue eyes and dark veins pulsing too close to the surface. God, these were the creatures she was so scared of. The creatures she had suspected to tear her apart in her sleep were asking her nicely for a necklace.

She burst into laughter and couldn't stop for the rest of the day. The meeting was adjourned without anything being finalized and the necklace still hanging around Santana's neck. The angels had decided that since Santana wouldn't give them the Key she simply wouldn't be allowed to leave the angel world. At that, Santana started laughing again.

Obviously, she hasn't left since then. And the angels started collecting around her, thinking that she was obeying their orders. And now, it feels as if the whole world of angels has tried to befriend her. And she's quietly taken their friendship with a huff and a quick roll of her eyes. At first, she was only acting less defiant because she knewBrittanywas influencing them. But, like she's mentioned before, they grew on her.

And now, she doesn't want to leave. Because meetingBrittanyis probably the best thing that's ever happened to her, because she loves this world and its mysterious beginning, and she loves these quirky angels.

But she knows that she has to leave some time. Because this world holds too much love and forgiveness, it would be selfish of her to stay. The only reason she's stayed this long is because of two things: first, she is a self-admitted egotistical bitch, and second, she doesn't know how to leave.

"San! San! Watch this!"Brittany's cheery voice brings Santana from her thoughts and onto the blonde beauty in the lake. Did she mention they have a lake? Because they do and every time she swims in it, it takes a little more convincing that this place isn't Heaven. Because, honestly, it isn't possible for a lake to be such a perfect temperature and not be manufactured by God himself.

"I'm watching Britt" She calls out and walks towards the cool water. She settles herself on a grassy ledge and lets her legs swing down over the water, relishing in the way her toes just barely brush the cool water with each swing.

Narrowing her eyes, she looks for Brittany, but finds that she isn't in the same place that she was in a moment ago. Frowning, she glances around and skims over serene surface of the water, but looks deeper when she finds that Brittany is no longer _above_ the water. Leaning forward, she catches sight of something shimmery moving just beneath the surface.

She smiles when she realizes that it'sBrittany's wings. She can see, faintly, Brittany doing back flips and turns in the water by the way her wings glint beneath the surface.

But when the movement stops, Santana leans in further to see the reason why. She can't see anything and a little bubble of panic bursts within her, setting off a chain reaction that leads to her plunging her hand into the water.

Her mind goes back to the time she had looked for Rachel in the murky water of the Looking Glass and hopes that this is different, that she will findBrittany. She leans in so far that her nose is inches from the water, and with her every movement the water splashes up and wets her nose.

There is a little flitter of something in the darkness of the water and suddenly, before Santana can do anything to stop it, Brittany flies out of the water and grabs her hand. Time stops for a horrifying moment, allowing Santana to see Brittany's sweet, innocent face contort into something mischievous and evil. Her heart flutters helplessly whenBrittanygives a mighty tug, plunging Santana head first into the water.

For dramatic purposes, she will re-tell the story with the water being ice cold and pitch black. And she had to fight tooth and nail just to find the surface again. But in reality, the water was pretty shallow where she fell andBrittanywas holding her the whole time...and the water was so goddamm perfect, it makes her reaction seem so painfully pitiful, she might as well call herself an angel.

She blubbers and flails, and while on the edge of hysterics she breathes in water. Tears prick her eyes as her body convulses with deep coughs and choking sounds. She begins to kick wildly and fights the restraining arms around her, feeling just about as frantic as she did the day Rachel held her under.

But then she is above the water and gasping like a small child on the verge of looking down at her with the sweetest expression of sympathy and amusement. It takes a little while, but she notices that Brittany is holding, cradling really, her so that she is floating on the surface of the water. The sun is hidden behindBrittany's wings which creates the gentlest shade for Santana as she floats half in the water and half inBrittany's arms.

Yes, Brittany is standing. The water goes up to her chest and while they both know that Brittany is tall, Santana could stand if she wanted to. Neither girl points this out when Santana makes no effort to stand.

When she recovers, she tries to roll her eyes and grimace but the effort seems moot.

"That was really sneaky" She tries to say as calmly as she can and is met withBrittany's goofy grin.

"I think you and Mr. Tubbington would get along swimmingly" She says with a small tilt to her head. Santana laughs and lets her head fall back into the water, making a little gurgling sound with her laughter. "He doesn't like to swim either" she clarifies, "I think he'd like you, and besides a little company would help him stop over-eating"

Santana laughs a little again and rubs her eyes, letting the water drip from her fingertips and roll down her cheeks like teardrops. "Okay Britt"

~~X ~~

Finn blinks slowly and tries to focus on Spanish. Mr. Shuester is at the front of the room, underlining a few words on the white board and glancing around the class excitedly, as if they knew what was going on.

With another blink he moves to wipe the drool from his chin and tries to focus on what Mr. Shue is saying. He always tries to pay attention in this class since Mr. Shue is his favorite teacher, but whatever he says usually sounds like the parents' muffled trombone voices from Charlie Brown.

Especially now, because his eyelids feel like they've got a thousand pounds weighing them down. So with a yawn, he gives up, curls his arms out in front of him, and rests his head on them like a pillow.

He's been so tired lately; he feels like a zombie, sleepwalking around the school with his eyelids practically glued shut and his arms out in front of him so he doesn't run into any walls. His mom says it's because he's under too much pressure, and he guesses that makes sense with all of the classes he's taking and being quarterback of the football team and all...So he gave up homework, but the only thing that helped was his Halo high scores.

But the real problem is that when he gets down to the end of the day, and he's lying down on his bed just waiting for sleep...It's his head that keeps him awake. It just won't shut up about Rachel and Quinn. While he should be sleeping, his head is giving him "what if" questions and comparisons of what could be.

It's like there is some kind of tape recorder in his head that is silent during the day, but when he tries to go to sleep it automatically puts itself on replay.

And during the long hours of the night, all he can do is think about Quinn's husky, cold voice and Rachel's bright eyes that seem to twinkle like stars in a dark night. He thinks of all the differences between the two and the future that he could have with either of them.

But the problem is, and the reason he can't go to bed at night, is that he knows he shouldn't want _both_ of them.

Ever since he was young, he's been told that a good man could only be attracted to one woman at a time. But he's not so sure that's true anymore because Mr. Shue likes his wife _and_ Miss Pillsbury doughboy or whoever she is.

And, well, Mr. Shuester is basically the best guy Finn's ever known. So maybe, liking two women at the same time is just one of those things every guy experiences and keeps to himself.

It has to be.

"Finn,"

He glances up at the call and notices that the room is empty besides him and Quinn. She stands in front of him, her head cocked slightly and the faint smile on her lips. The same smile that she's tried to have him practice, the one that she says winners wear, the smile that seems to say _be happy that I've put in the effort to half-smile at you_. It holds none of the warm characteristics smiles usually wear, such as kindness, and instead glimmers as a beautifully misleading mask would.

"Hey Quinn!" He sits up from his seat and manages to pull his arms up close and pull her into a bear hug; he sighs and snuggles into the hug until he hears that breathy grunt reverberate through his chest, a warning sound Quinn usually makes before she loses her temper.

He steps back and watches as she huffs and fixes her wrinkled skirt. "I told you not to hug me so tightly," She scolds and runs a hand through her hair, smoothing out invisible bumps in the tight ponytail.

"Sorry" he mumbles and dips his head,

She holds out her hand and gives him one of her softer stares, which looks more like a blank scowl. He bites his lip to keep in a happy grin when she says nothing more than "Forget about it,"

They walk silently through the halls and keep their heads straight and higher than everybody else. The students around them practically throw themselves into the lockers in an attempt to stay out of their way.

Finn gives the students who have the confidence to look up at them a lopsided grin before Quinn shoos them away with her icy glare.

This is what he's missed, and ultimately what he loves, about his relationship with Quinn. They are royalty at this school, king and queen, the Lead Quarterback and the Head Cheerio. Good cop, bad cop, this is everything they are.

Quinn's hand is cold in his, soft and smooth, like porcelain and it captures his warm hand like a steel trap. And although he is bigger than her, stronger than her, and older than her, it feels as if Quinn is guiding him through the hallways. Her steps reverberate through the hallways as she walks and her grip on his hand tightens whenever he stumbles or falls behind.

Rachel skitters into the hallway then, breaking the silence in the hallways and bringing peace to his mind. He perks up and grins giddily at her as she slowly strolls towards their direction. She has headphones over her head, pressed tightly against her ears, and a little baggie of peas in her hands. Her eyebrows are knitted together in concentration as she walks in the middle of the hallway.

Rachel gives him a very different feeling than when he is with Quinn, and it's something he's never experienced before. Rachel is sweet, kind, and she never looks disappointed when he says something silly. Rachel doesn't consider herself to be better than him, which makes hanging out with her so much easier. And she always looks happy to see him. While Finn has developed a level of faith and respect for Quinn over time, Rachel is the one whose company he sincerely enjoys.

"Did you do your homework?"

He blinks at the sudden sound of conversation and looks down to see Quinn looking up at him with those stoic eyes.

"Uh, no I was pretty caught up last night."

"Doing what?"

"Hm?"

"You said you were 'caught up'. What were you so busy with?"

"Um...Halo with Puck?"

Quinn just sighs; her forehead crinkles into a deep frown as if she were experiencing one of those migraines his mother gets whenever he starts talking too loud. "If you need homework I'm sure I can get some from someone else,"

A strange sound, mixed between a laugh and a groan, comes from the back of Quinn's throat and catches Finn's attention.

"Are you a moron?" She asks and cocks her head up at him in a way that makes him frown. Why does she always ask him if he is a moron? Does she expect him to answer back with a yes? "I don't need the homework. I did all of it last night after practically running Cheerios practice and my chores." She snaps and he puffs out his cheeks in irritation.

"Then why did you ask me if I did my homework?" He sighs and emphasizes the last of his words with a righteous stomp. He stops however, when he finds Quinn suddenly in front of him, staring back at him in a way that reminds him of a raging bull.

"Because, Finn, from your last progress report I could tell that your grades have gotten very low. And you keep being this lazy you are going to get kicked off the football team! Where are you going to be then, Finn?"

He mumbles and kicks the ground softly with the toe of his shoe. "What was that?"

"On the bottom"

"That's right," She sighs and her eyes soften ever so slightly, "I'm just looking out for you"

"Thanks Mom" He grumbles, not quite meeting her eyes. Quinn glances back to him and crosses her arms over her chest, her eyebrows quirking upwards.

"Would you like to repeat that?"

"No," he mutters and ignores the satisfied smirk that crawls across her lips as they start walking down the hallway again. He stays silent and lets her guide him through the halls again.

"Hello Quinn and Finn! I do hope that both of your days have been splendid so far!" Rachel yells, making Finn flinch at the sound. She sure could be loud sometimes. Glancing to her, he finds that her headphones are still on.

"It's getting there" he says in with a smile

"What?" She yells back, squinting lightly and holding the headphones tighter to her ears, as if that will help anything. With a laugh, he takes one side of the headphones off and leans in slightly, a smile clinging to his lips.

"Can you hear me now?" He says, trying to impersonate that guy from Verizon. Rachel's eyebrows furrow together slightly but she's smiling and shaking her head so he counts it as a successful joke. "Where'd you get those headphones, Rach?" He asks, loving the way the nickname rolls off his tongue. His mind is somewhat anxious though, reminding him of the time he (technically Quinn) had to buy new clothes for Rachel. How did she afford headphones?

Looking into Rachel's eyes, it was so easy to read her emotions. Unlike Quinn, her expressions aren't guarded, and he can clearly see the way her eyes shine excitedly as she says "Oh! Puck gave them to me-" She quickly looses herself in a ramble about the "intricate design" of the headphones and threw in a few other big words he couldn't understand, but his mind was lost with the mention of Puck. A brooding question began to form in his mind and it makes his palms sweat.

"That's great Berry but Finn and I have to go." Quinn interjects and moves back to his side. He whips his head down to her, to Rachel, and back down to Quinn again. When did Quinn _leave_ his side? It looked as if she came from behind Rachel. Possibly putting something into Rachel's backpack? Never mind, he doesn't want to think about what she would put there.

Rachel's brows furrow slightly and her lips pucker as she stares after the two of them as they leave.

"O-oh, well, okay. I guess I'll see you la..." She trails off when she notices that both Finn and Quinn have turned away from her. Rachel stands in the middle of the hallway for a few moments, watching the two of them go before quietly putting on her headphones again and shuffling away.

Finn sighs when Quinn has practically drags him out of the hallway.

"You know, you could at least try to be nice." He mumbles and pulls Quinn's arm slightly, forcing her to slow down. She glances up to him and gives him a single second to see wariness fly through her eyes. It's only for a moment, and she hides it well with an eye roll, but he does see it and it makes him stop short.

A quiet laugh breathes humorlessly from Quinn's lips and she shakes her head slightly.

"That _was_ me trying to be nice."

"I'm serious, Rachel's been nothing but kind to you and you've been nothing but mean."

"Just let it go Finn, Rachel and I will never be friends" She mumbles and frowns down at her hands, as if she were checking her nails, but he could hear the sour tone. The flat sound of sadness tinting her voice. He holds onto the little clue and dives into it without thinking.

"You're just jealous of her." The moment he spits the words out, he wishes he could eat them right back up because of the look she gives him. She stops right in front of him and turns her head slowly so that she can look up at him. Her lips have just barely moved but her eyes are _angry_.

"Are you being serious right now?"

"Come on Quinn," He mumbles with a bit of a pout and moves to guide the subject of conversation back just a couple of words. "It won't hurt for you to at least pretend you like her."

Quinn blinks and laughs. It's a cold and loud sound and it makes him, as well as the students eavesdropping near by, flinch.

"Actually, I think it just might."

"Why?" He snaps, feeling shivers of anger running up his legs and his palms begin to sweat. He looks at her, sees her cross her arms over her chest and remembers one of Rachel's soft rants in the auditorium. He remembers the dully lit auditorium and the soft plunking of the piano keys as Rachel played absentmindedly. But mostly he remembers what she had murmured to him after what felt like hours of him venting. She had turned towards him and his heart began to race when he saw her face illuminated by the auditorium light. "She's just scared," She murmured quietly.

"Because you're afraid?" He says softly, the sudden change of volume must have surprised Quinn because it looked as if the words actually registered instead of blowing right past her. He smiles gently, thinking that maybe if he could just point out Quinn's flaws, it would help her fix them.

He believes in what Rachel says. He just wishes that he'd thought to listen to her a little more because he doesn't have anything more to back up his comment with.

Quinn has become silent and is now staring up at him with those chester eyes; it almost looks as if she were about to cry but he knows better than to fall for such waterworks because he can see a cold rage flashing behind her watery eyes.

"That's so easy for you to say!" She says with a little shriek of laughter. Finn flinches at the sound and looks down at his shoes; he's forgotten how much his girlfriend scares him. "You know, it must be so easy to be you Finn. Life must be seem so fantastically simple for you to stand there and scold me for being 'mean' to the girl you like." Her voice cracks a little and it makes Finn choke a little bit in surprise. How did she know?

"I wish I could be like you, I really do. I wish that the biggest worries in my life involved Halo and Glee club. I wish I could stumble through life like you do. I wish I could just smile and frolic around the halls, waving like an idiot at everyone passing me by. I wish I could defend all the cute, heartthrob blacklisters whenever I want; I wish I could drop all responsibilities and drabble in a little love on the side whenever relationships get hard, knowing that at the end of the day everyone will still love me because I have a heartless boyfriend who keeps everyone in line!"

Finn stands with his mouth hanging, staring down at his girlfriend in shock. Never before in his life has he heard such an outbreak from her. In public, no less! He blinks a few times and rubs his eyes, half expecting to wake up and find his stoic girlfriend again.

"I-I never cheated on you" Is all he can think of to say. "Is that what you're afraid of?"

Quinn just stands there glaring up at him. She has widened her eyes so that he can see the whites all around her eyes and it makes her look even more terrifying than usual. "I'm not scared of anything," she growls lowly, demanding him to accept the words as truth and forget about it.

Finn stares straight into her eyes and tilts his head to the side, faking thought. "So, if I were to kiss Rachel. You wouldn't mind"

Her lips twitch and although her eyes don't change or narrow; Finn can see a definate hardness in them, as if her hazel eyes had turned into rock.

"Why Rachel?" She asks darkly. Finn furrows his brow, he had expected her to say no. She seems to notice his confusion and jumps to correct herself. "I could care less who you kiss. Go ahead, go kiss Rachel. Go crazy. I dare you" She says with a triumphant smirk.

He stands there staring at the girl who has their futures planned out until they day they die. It's funny that she's thought so far ahead but hasn't thought about him. Hasn't even considered that the way she may treat him might mean that he doesn't want to be with her anymore. And in this moment he doesn't even know if she cares that he cheats on her or if she just doesn't want him to be happy with Rachel.

"Fine, I will" He replies and watches the smirk fall of her face as he storms off.

He's gonna get some singing lessons

~~ X ~~

Mr. Tubbington is fat.

He is also a cat.

Two of these things Santana supposes she should have guessed, since the name is Mr. Tubbington and cats are usually pets. But at this point, with this world being so out of the ordinary, a part of her expected a unicorn or something. _Expected_, not hoped, there is a difference.

Obviously, Santana wouldn't have cared in the slightest if Mr. Tubbington turned out to be a unicorn. The only reason she _is_ disappointed is that...well he's only a fat cat. How could he get fat here anyway? The only thing Angels eat is bread and soup.

Also, mental note to self. Someday, she is going to haveBrittanytaste candy.

"Wait, why does Mr. Tubbington have a name? I got the impression that you hipsters thought names were too mainstream" she says with a snort. _Damn_, she is so funny.

Brittany stares at her for a moment, making Santana curse. Dammit, she probably doesn't know what hipster means. Quinn would've laughed. A little shoot of pain goes through her at the thought of her friend and what she must be thinking at having Santana gone for so long.

"Oh, well" Brittanysmiles a little bit and makes a runs her hand through her hair with the faintest blush on her cheeks. "I kind of named him..._after_ you named me. I wanted to give it a try" She scratches her head and looks at him, "it's harder than I thought it would be"

Mr. Tubbington meows loudly and waddles toward Santana, although it looks more like a crawl since his belly drags against the floor as he walks. She crinkles her nose at him and pats his head. She's always hated cats.

"It sure fits him"

"I don't think anything fits him anymore"Brittany says with a sad sigh and plops down beside Santana.

They sit in a comfortable silence for a long time and Santana begins to pick at the grass, splitting the strands she rips up from the ground into two and throwing them aside. But she stops when she seesBrittany's pained glance to the pile of what must look like a massacred grass family. "Santana" she sighs after a moment. "Are you going to leave us?"

Santana coughs and looks at Britt, confused by the sudden change of conversation.

Either way, she can't find herself lying toBrittany, so with a sigh she leans back onto the grass and nods her head.

"The Elders told you not to leave" Is Brittany's innocent response and Santana laughs again at the word "told" since it was more of a stutter. But she sobers up when she seesBrittanylooking up at her with a rare solemnity.

"The Elders _asked_ me to stay here; I don't remember hearing a single demand between their nervous gasps."

Brittanyturns to Santana and rests her chin on her arm as she looks at Santana. Her expression looks sad and serious, which is so rarely seen on her goofy face that it surprises Santana into silence.

"Angels aren't aggressive, that is our nature and curse, but history has shown that we will attack if provoked"Brittanybreathes in a husky voice while never leaving eye contact. Santana stares back at those unblinking blue eyes and doesn't dare breathe until she's sure thatBrittanyis done. Then, when Santana is about to pass out from shock and lack of oxygen, she licks her lips, blinks, yawns, and looks back to Santana hopefully as if watching for a change in her resolve.

Santana waits and takes a little breath, watching warily forBrittanyto say something more. But after a moment ofBrittanysimply staring hopefully at her she allows herself to laugh.

"Do you even know what provoked means?" Santana says between gasps of laughter, and notices as she wipes her eyes that her stomach is starting to clench painfully with all the laughing she's been doing. But she can't help it, that sentence coming from Brittanysounded _so_ bizarre that she thought for a moment that she'd fallen into an even crazier world than this.

Brittanybreaks out in a beam and her cheeks tint red in embarrassment.

"The Elders say that if I don't memorize the text I won't learn anything"Brittanysays, looking down at her hands with a smile, "they say that I'm slow..." She pauses here and looks up, squinting at the sun as if she's just now considering what the Elders told her. "Which is weird 'cause I'm faster than the rest of the kids at 'touch and run'?"

At that, Santana thinks two things. First, she's a bitch (which is obvious) for making fun of Britt and second...Really? No wonder angels don't name things. Touch and Run? Is that supposed to be tag? _God_, she can only think of the names they'd give. It would probably be close to Mr. Tubbington. What would they callBrittany if she hadn't named her first? Mrs. Long Legs? Blue Eyes and Blonde Hair? Wonderful names.

Shit, there was a conversation.

"Well, the Elders don't know shit" Santana grumbles in defense, suddenly somber over havingBrittany's intelligence in question. "And they don't mean that kind of slow, Britt"

Brittany shrugs.

"I don't think you should go" She hums and looks down at the torn out grass. Slowly, she begins putting each strand back into the earth and patting the ground down beside each blade of grass, like tucking a child into bed. "What's so great about the human world anyway?" She mumbles in a voice barely even audible. "Rachel left and now you want to go too" She sighs and puts her hands beside her. And with the small action, Santana's heart melts a little, she looks so helpless. Her wings flap anxiously around them and creates a faint breeze.

"I'll come back, Britt Britt." She says with a smile and runs a hand through the soft top layer of feathers on Brittany's wings. She loves the texture and feel of wings, and not only because the feeling was so new for her but because they were soft and silky. But as her hand brushed down the broad side of a single, ivory white wing, it left a faint tingle to her palm that warmed her up to the core.

Brittany makes a face and mashes her lips together.

"That's what Rachel said"

Santana frowns and stops petting the wing she'd been paying so much attention to; her fingertips hover over the ivory feathers and after slight hesitation, she moves her hand so that it is caressing the hot skin of Brittany's cheek. It feels a little awkward at first, touching-caressing even-Brittany's cheek, especially since she's never been one to show affection.

It's not that she's entirely opposed to it, it's just that it she's never touched someone without it ending in a push or pull reaction. Push meaning Quinn where she ultimately gets shooed away; and pull meaning...well...sex, obviously.

Brittany sighs and melts into the touch, making sure to wrap her own arms around Santana's waist as she does so. "I'm sorry" Brittany murmurs, though Santana's not really sure why _she_ should be apologizing. "This must be what being selfish feels like,"

Santana snorts and pets her friend's golden hair with her other hand. She wants to tell her that she's just barely skimmed the top of understanding an endless ocean of selfish behavior, but she just doesn't have the heart to destroy Britt's innocence quite yet. And, Christ, if this is what being selfish is called then Santana doesn't even want to _know_ what to call what she's been doing for the past 16 years.

"My friends and family don't even know if I'm alive of not" she clarifies with a response so delayed it should be a change of subject.

She knows that Brittany understands by the way her wings droop in around her, forcing her closer; Santana adds on in a quieter voice, "I just don't know how to leave."

"Rachel told me how" Is all she says, and without giving Santana a chance to enjoy the intimate position they were in, Brittany is up and smiling widely at her friend once again. "Follow me"

~~ X ~~

Chemistry.

Quinn's lips curl into a sneer at the slight mention of the word. She absolutely loathes Chemistry, and she would do anything she could to get out of it if her parents weren't so insistent on her getting a good grade in the class.

She can easily say that she hates Chemistry on any day of the week, but today it is especially awful. And that probably has something to do with the fact that her boyfriend is most likely lip-locked with Rachel at this very moment. It gives her some reason to be uneasy and unwilling to memorize the periodic chart.

It is her fault though, if she hadn't pushed him so far he wouldn't be assaulting Rachel right now. God, the thought of it makes her skin crawl.

With a groan, she presses the pads of her fingertips against her eyelids and adds enough pressure to see dots spot the darkness behind her eyelids. She needs to stop thinking like that! She's upset that she pushed Finn away, who she pushed him to doesn't matter. At least, it shouldn't matter. She groans again.

"Miss Fabray, is everything alright?" The teacher asks her in a nasally little voice. Quinn opens her eyes to see Mrs. Silver (yes, her name _is_ an element on the periodic chart. She's pointed it out several times.) Staring at her behind her thick glasses.

Quinn smiles and ignores the wary glances of the students around her as she nods her head.

If Chemistry has taught her anything, it is that everything has a boiling point. A point where an object, no matter how strong it thinks of itself, will succumb to the heat. It's here, at the very edge of the end that Quinn resides in. Just a few degrees short of her boiling point.

It would be suffice to say that the last couple of weeks haven't exactly been easy on her.

The majority of her days include trying to keep Finn beside her, pushing Puck away, worrying herself to death about Santana, and...Rachel. Honestly, she has no idea what she's doing.

It's the same argument she's had about the girl since the very beginning, the dynamic changes and different perspectives are given but ultimately it's all about Quinn wondering how she is going to deal with Rachel Berry. In the end, she can't even blame Rachel on anything anymore because the girl is just so innocent.

You could probably shove a million dollars into her hands, leave for an hour, and come back to find Rachel in the exact spot you left her with that blinding smile that makes everything hurt and the million dollars safe and untouched in her palms.

And now Quinn has pushed Finn away. For what? A comment; he simply asked her if she was afraid and now because of her thoughtless reaction, he is out chasing Rachel harder than ever. But what was she supposed to do? She had never once heard something like that from Finn before. He simply doesn't have the brainpower or persistence to pinpoint something like that. But if he didn't think of it, who told him?

A nervous shiver runs up her spine at the memory of her and Rachel alone in Finn's kitchen; Rachel's hand caressing her cheek and asking her what she's so afraid of.

Quinn dispels a shaky breath and puts her head in her arms; nuzzling her nose against the soft flesh of her underarm and tasting its salty sweet tang against her lips. Why does everyone assume that she is afraid? Is it something that exudes from her? Can it be smelled on her like perfume? Or is she so obvious that someone as thick-headed as Finn can pick up on it?

Of course she is _wary_. She wouldn't go as far as to say she's scared, per se; everyone gets nervous sometimes and it just so happens to be that she has a lot to lose. Is she expected to be blind to the obvious contempt the student body holds for her?

She's on the very top of the social pyramid and she has stepped on _a lot_ of toes to get there; it's only a matter of time before someone tries to rip her down to the bottom. And when that happens, she doubts that it will be very pretty.

What are her parents going to say if she were to suddenly come home covered in slushie? What will Finn do when she isn't on top anymore? Leave her of course. And then what is going to happen? Only the one thing that makes her stay up all night sweating and gritting her teeth over. Rachel will fall in love with Finn and Quinn will be completely and utterly _alone_.

The thought surprises her for a moment and she feels tears prick her eyes. Where the hell did that come from? She isn't acting normally. This kind of irrational behavior is what happens when people do stupid things. God, why can't Finn just give up that stupid little dream of true love? It's messing with her head.

Before she can think twice, her hand shoots up and catches Mrs. Silver's attention.

"May I go to the bathroom?" She blurts out, feeling the heat on her cheeks as someone behind her snickers. Any other day she would simply turn around and glare, but today her stupid boyfriend is going to kiss Rachel and she is on the brink of tears.

At the teacher's stuttered reply, she jumps up and walks as fast as she can from the room.

~~ X ~~

Brittany stays just outside of the cave and looks in as Santana roams the edge with her fingertips, probing every inch of the mud walls with curiosity.

"You gonna come in, Britt?"

She takes a faint breath at the nickname; she loves it when Santana calls her Britt. She never expected to feel so attached to a simple label, but the way it rolls of the tongue simply feels right. And not to mention, once she got the hang of responding to the name she has to admit that she doesn't know how she went through life without one.

"Coming, San." She whispers and ducks into the cave.

Upon entering, she immediately gets a sickly chill run up her spine and she takes a deep breath. She's never liked coming in here, the air was too heavy that she felt as if she were trying to breath in a world where the air was mud. Though, at the thought, she does get slightly lost in her own mind. How would that work? Breathing mud... She can't imagine it feeling nice. Who knows? It could feel exactly the way she feels right now.

"What the fuck is with all of these paintings?" Santana calls behind her, andBrittanyfinds her winding around the circular room with her hand on the walls.

Brittanylooks to the first drawing; a lone angel, sketched out of charcoal, sits in submission to the violent humans surrounding it. Oh, the stories she's heard over these drawings. She's never been very fond of these stories, but when Rachel leaving them the elders, like, forced to retell them.

"These paintings were our first history books" She chirps, practically stealing the words from the Elder's mouth. Faintly, she points a finger to the first painting. The one where the black angel and red humans are still somewhat far away. Then, she spins around the last one with the human's weapons piercing through the charcoal sketch of the angel. "It shows the first day of war. They call it _The Proclamation_, I don't know what that means, but basically it was mascara"

Santana turns her attention from the wall and gives her a strange look.

"Um... Do you mean massacre?"

"Oh! Yep, that one." She giggles and scratches the back of her neck.

"Yeah, this isn't in our history books." Santana mumbles and puts her fingertips against the mud walls once again;Brittanywatches as Santana's tanned fingers brush over the outline of the fallen angel.

"Well...Then how did you know of us?"

Santana laughs, shakes her head, and presses her fingertips against her eyelids.

"The Bible" She says weakly and looks over her shoulder to Brittany. She's never heard of the "Bible" but it sounds really confusing. She crinkles her nose and Santana laughs. "Yeah, that look pretty much sums it up"

Turning around, Santana moves around the room once again. "Doesn't matter anyway, you're nothing like the angels you're supposed to be."Brittany cocks her head to the side, confused by her friend's choice of words. Santana needs only glance back to her to know that she's confused Brittany. With a quick flash of a smile, she elaborates. "You're too...fragile. We have you guys painted as guardians" She murmurs as her finger brushes over the red paint of a human figure.

Brittany runs a hand across her paper thin skin; the weakness of her skin combined with Santana's words makes a red flame of embarrassment stretch across her cheeks.

"We weren't always like this." She whispers and runs her fingertips up the black veins, following the path of her pounding blood until she's reached the place where her shoulder meets arm.

Santana glances back and bites her lip. She seems to think something over for a silent moment before nodding her head and moving away from the wall.

"So is that it? There was a war for a day?" Santana asks, throwing her arms up above her head as she moves towards the small opening of The Looking Glass.

Brittany laughs reluctantly and takes her hand from her arm. Leaving her insecure thoughts behind, she laughs again, and walks towards the Looking Glass opening.

"Oh no, there is much more. So, so much more"

Santana waits, but Brittany doesn't share. "What? You're not gonna tell me?" She asks petulantly, raising an but shakes her head, her eyes sparkling happily. "Come on! Tell me more!" Santana pleads.

Brittany shakes her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "You gotta come back for more,"

Santana sighs. "I've already ruined you." She shakes her head and gives Brittany a look that makes her heart race a little bit. "I already promised that I'd come back."

Brittany nods her head, eager to agree, but she smiles a little bit at the twinkle in Santana's eye. There is something about her that simply screams: _brimmed to the top with curiosity; please tease_. "I believe you. And when you come back I will tell you more"

Santana sighs and stomps her foot in an adorable fit of frustration.

"You make me want to stay." She grumbles and looks dramatically off to the paintings on the wall. Finally, she sighs and twirls the Key between her fingertips for a few moments before nodding subtly to herself again and looking to Brittany. "I'll be back soon" She says with so much certainty that Brittanycannot help but smile.

"I've told you everything that Rachel told me. So, you should be fine"

Getting excited, Santana kneels to the ground and starts crawling through the hole. But once she gets to her midsection, she goes backwards again and faces her.

"Are you sure what Rachel told you was right? It sounds along the lines of telling someone to smell water"

Brittany's mouth falls open and she drops her hands to her waist. "You can _smell_ water?"

She'll have to try this as soon as possible. But Santana's eyes pop unnaturally wide and she begins shaking her head; whatever, she will just postpone it until Santana comes back.

With one more glance, she turns back and starts crawling away; but again, once she gets to her midsection before she turns back in the same way, making Brittany wonder if Santana truly knows how to crawl.

But this time Santana wipes her hands against her thighs and stands up. And for a moment, Brittany thinks that Santana won't actually be leaving. But instead, Santana comes up close and places a cool hand on her her friend silently. Brittany enjoys the way the hand warms her cheek (or maybe its her cheek that's warming Santana's hand), or the way her heart skips a beat, but she thinks what she likes the most is when Santana leans forward and kisses her softly on the lips.

It lasts only for a moment, only long enough for her heart to do a few back flips in her chest. And the moment Santana pulls away she silently scolds her heart to stop doing such tricks. The Elders say that her heart is a muscle and she'd hate for it to get tired while it was busy pounding so quickly every time Santana did normal things such as greet her or said goodbye.

It _is_ odd though, she's never gotten this excited by her angel friends whenever they greet her with kisses on the cheeks. Maybe it's because this one was on the lips? But it couldn't have been that different right?

Before she can ask, she sees that Santana is more than half through the tunnel. "Wait!" She yelps, a sudden thought coming over her. Santana crawls backwards with a laugh and looks at her. "Promise me that you'll take care of Rachel" She murmurs and wrings her hands. "Just make sure that she's okay and safe"

Santana nods her head silently and looks up into Brittany's eyes for a long moment before crawling back through the hole. And this time, she doesn't come back out.

Brittany listens for the sounds of Santana walking through the smaller room and hears the faint sounds of her entering water.

It's only when all sounds and activity has turned into a calm silence that Brittany finally leaves the cave.

~~ X ~~

Having a free block in the afternoon is amazing sometimes.

At this point in the day, it's where the drama happens.

Now, he's no pansy gossiper or anything, he couldn't care less about the content of the drama, but the effects of it tend to have wonderful benefits. And there is something about that frustrating last hour of school that causes girls and boys to burst out of their classes and rip each other's eyes out.

And it is here that Puck waits.

He lurks just outside the drama, looking in, ready for an emotionally wrecked girl to stumble from whatever drama she got herself into and run into his big, muscular arms.

Except today, apparently.

Unfortunately for him, the only drama he has seen today was a fight between two crows over a crumb of bread. Which turned out to be pretty cool anyway.

So, he figures he'll do the next best thing after sex. Well, his next best thing would be waiting outside the liquor store and asking for a beer, but it's fucking pouring outside and he hates having to wring the water from his favorite leather jacket. So this time, the next best thing will just have to be talking to Rachel.

With a sigh, he retires to the auditorium because Rachel is like a little vampire or something and spends all her free time locked up in the dark, playing on that damn piano.

Rachel couldn't find a fifth period class, so she technically has a free period like him. Except that she doesn't _really_ go McKinley so technically she could just not go to school. But whatever. She spends her "free period" obsessing over Sectionals.

Actually, now that he thinks about it, Quinn forcing him to "investigate" Rachel was probably the best thing Quinn could do for her.

Because although the people at this school are slow enough not to get a big, fat, red flag when a stranger wandered into school dressed in a white drape, he is sure that someone would have noticed eventually. Rachel was pretty helpless and acted like a fucking alien. He doesn't know where she was before she came here, she could have lived under a rock for all he knew, but either way, she acted foreign. But thankfully, she chose to stow away in this broke ass school.

Ah...McKinley: where the teachers are underpaid and overworked and the classes are so packed that some students have to stand. And if anybody knows about how desperate that makes the teachers, it would be Puck. That constant hopelessness and disappointment blackening their teachers' hearts is what keeps him with passing grades. Don't ask how he does it, he won't tell.

Opening the door to the auditorium, he slinks into the darkened back of the room and filters through the seats and towards the stage. But as he gets closer, he sees that Rachel isn't alone.

Finn sits on the piano bench, twiddling his fingers in his lap as Rachel buzzes around the room. Puck smirks at first at the look on Finn's face; it looks as if he's bitten off more than he can chew. That's what he gets for having the hots for the singing energizer bunny. Yes, Finn really is that obvious.

Sitting down, Puck crosses his arms and waits for the show to start. Maybe he was wrong about today. Maybe he's stumbled into the perfect pile of drama to deflower the Queen of Chastity. He'll have to thank Finn later for being stupid. Maybe he'll send over a flower, or a soundtrack of Quinn's moans.

"You know I was surprised when you showed up so early for your usual singing lessons but I can understand your concern. With the Glee club at such a low body count and a disturbing lack of stamina, one would need to take drastic measures to simply keep up. It is nice to see someone as concerned as I am for the success of the Glee club" Rachel rants as she shuffles through sheets of music.

Finn smiles crookedly and scratches the back of his neck.

"I kind of regret telling you about Sectionals" he blurts out dumbly

"Hmm?" Rachel turns to him and blinks, looking away from her sheets of music for the first time since Puck walked in. "Did you say something Finn?"

"Uh...I mean that I'm really excited"

"I can't blame you Finn, after all, if the crowd is as big as you say..." She trails off and smiles dazzlingly at the auditorium ceiling. Finn manages to quirk his lips though he looks a bit confused. Rachel eventually falls out of her daze and looks back at him, smiling brighter than ever. "What song did you have in mind? I do hope that you plan on singing this time"

"Uh..." Finn looks down at his hands, making it obvious that he came here with every intention_ but_ to sing. But Rachel isn't fazed and simply passes him a sheet of music before striding to the center of the stage.

Puck rolls his eyes and leans his head back. He didn't sit down here to listen to them sing. Just fast forward to the money shot already! Finn can sing about losing his girlfriend to the Puckzilla later.

As the music starts Puck can hear the door creak open. Glancing towards the sound, he catches a glimpse of a lithe silhouette lurking towards him. As it creeps closer Puck can see the very definite features of a girl's red and white Cheerios uniform and...Blonde hair.

Puck knew there was music playing, the flailing Finn was doing indicated as much. But the only thing Puck could focus on was the faint creak of the seat as Quinn sat down right beside him. Nervous chills ran up his legs as she occupied both of the armrests, forcing Puck to move his own arm. He dumbly stuck his hands between his knees and watched as Quinn's fingers thrummed silently over the cup holders.

_She's got you high and you don't even know yet. She's got you high and you don't even know yet. The sun is in the sky. It's warming up your bare legs. You can't deny your looking for the sunset. _

Puck can see very little through the darkness of the room, but the little things he can see allow his imagination to put the pieces together. Quinn's expression is neutral, her eyebrows are only slightly indented and her lips have taken a slight height. As if she were a movie critic, pursing her lips through a mediocre movie and not a girlfriend about to watch her boyfriend cheat on her.

_She's got you high and you don't even know yet. She's got you high and you don't even know yet._

Very slowly, as to not make a sound, Puck breathes through his nose. Knowing that if he breathed too loud, his breath would be shaky, and that is something Quinn would not only notice but store away for blackmail. Finn and Rachel have begun some sort of dance routine with turns and hand gestures.

Through the dance, Finn would inch a little bit closer. And with each gained inch Puck can see Quinn bristle more and more until her jaw is clenched as tightly as a man who's about to have his leg amputated via dirty saw.

There is something interesting about what is going on the stage. Like Rachel and Finn are on separate pages, or different books. Finn's intentions are clear in the way he leans down with that smirk as he sings. But Rachel just smiles back in that usual bright smile that she has for everything. Then she turns and continues dancing and getting lost in singing. Poor Rachel. She simply doesn't understand what is going on around her; never has and maybe never will.

_It's the search for the time before it leaves without you. Have you lost your mind or has she taken all of yours too?_

This is what Puck thinks about the world. He isn't into deep thoughts; it distracts him from what's important in life: sex. But everyone's got to have a theory and his is that everyone goes to the same beat in this world.

Every single person in this world obsesses over the same things, essentially. Like finding love, working, sleeping, wanting to be different and to fulfill some kind of invisible bucket list.

But not Rachel. Well, she still wants those things, but there is something about her. She goes to a different beat, and right now she is trying to calibrate. Trying being the key word. She either jumps ahead of the rhythm or falls behind. Sexuality is one thing that she is desperately and hopelessly behind on, to a point that Puck has given up on any sort of sexual innuendo.

_What's this about? I figured love would shine through. We've lost romance this world has turned to see through._

"Puck."

At being called, Puck's head whips towards the girl beside him. He would have never expected her to actually talk to him first.

He can see her drawing lines in the armrest beside her. "You know a lot about women" She states matter-of-factly and Puck can't help but laugh a little bit at that. He nods slowly and unnecessarily.

She turns her head slowly and looks up at him with serious eyes. "If I were to break the two of them apart and guilt trip them into staying away from one another. Do you think everything would go back to normal?" She asks so seriously and it forces Puck to look into her eyes.

They reflect lightly in the darkness, allowing Puck to look straight into them. Past the hardened glaze and wide pupils Puck can see a painful childhood of neglect that fuels that throbs in her heart like a thorn in a Lion's paw.

Shaking his head, he averts his eyes down to her lips; he's never been able to stare into her eyes for too long before growing some sort of heart.

_Open your mind. Believe it's going to come true. Keep romance alive and hope she's going to tell you._

"No, Quinn"_ I don't think you can force back time and manipulate somebody into being the perfect puppet for you again_. He obviously leaves the last part unspoken because in the pros and cons of seeing Quinn flustered and seeing her hurt, it just isn't worth it. "They're just gonna go behind your back, only next time it's going to be fueled by _forbidden love_" Puck says with a shrug and Quinn makes a face.

After that, Quinn doesn't respond for a long time. She simply stares straight ahead with her usual blank expression and brooding eyes. Puck eventually turns back to the stage, figuring that their conversation was over. But after a moment, he can hear her take a soft breath and scratch the plastic of the chair beside her once again.

_She's got you high and you don't even know yet. She's got you high and you don't even know yet. _

"What should I do?" She asks so, so softly that he could barely even hear her. Puck looks at her and sees the wariness that is in every recipient of drama. That's what it does to people. The pressure makes a person's heart throb and they begin to squirm in attempt to feel different. The effects this type of drama does to a person is something even Quinn isn't immune to.

Puck turns to her slowly and leans in a bit closer so that he can speak just as softly. Now is his time. His planning and flirting will come to an end tonight and sweet victory will be his finally.

"Nothing you can do but get even" He husks and sees her eyes flash. She frowns and he wiggles his eyebrows, though he doubts she actually saw it since its so damn fucking dark in here.

_The sun's in the sky it makes for happy endings. You can't deny you want a happy ending. _

Finn cuts off his singing in a sudden and uncoordinated lunge at Rachel. She gasps as Finn crushes their lips together and lies in Finn's arms, uncooperative and disoriented. But that didn't seem to matter that much to Finn, or maybe he simply didn't notice. Perhaps he's gotten used to women being limp and bored from his touch.

Quinn, however, isn't still in the slightest. She makes an interesting sound from the back of her throat that sounds like the mutated lovechild of a growl and a hiss. Puck watches as Quinn reacts to the kiss unfolding in front of her by chewing on her lip and pounding her open palms quietly against the armrests, as if the chairs had some kind of button that could stop time and make everything okay again.

Although the reaction was fantastic, it's always what comes afterwards that makes Puck's day special.

Quinn licks her lips and glances back to the stage and then back to him. Indecision burning in her hesitation, but eventually she turns to him with a set look of determination.

"What did you have in mind?"

Smirking, Puck stands up and holds out his hand for her.

"Follow me"

She slides her cool hand in his and he gulps at the softness of it. He'd never expect someone so cold to be so soft.

His heart pounds against his chest as he lets her up. Okay, he may be doing something awful by taking advantage of Quinn but...He's wanted this for so long.

And as his hopes and dreams follow him out of the auditorium, he feels so happy he could die.

~~ X ~~

Rachel doesn't jump on the puddles on her way home. She is far too perturbed, annoyed, and befuddled to take the time to have fun in the rain. Instead, she crosses her arms against her chest and scuffs her shoes against the wet sidewalk. She's skipped Glee club.

She had tried to stay for the benefit of the club, but it was too awkward.

Finn had...Kissed her? On the lips! That had never happened before. Ever. It's odd; a kiss is such a strange thing. It can be sweet and polite to kiss someone on the cheek but the moment you place such an action on a pair or lips it turns into something shocking and unsettling.

Rachel rubs at her lips with her fingertips and wishes that her hand had the power to wipe away the memory of the entire experience.

Maybe she wouldn't be this upset if Finn was simply a passionate greeter and had wished to take Rachel's manners to another level. But this was the human world, and Rachel's natural intuition had made a very uncomfortable _zing_ in her head the moment Finn's lips touched hers. This wasn't as simple as Rachel's kisses on the cheek. No. It was something she would need to investigate further. But not with Finn.

After he had let go of her, she had just stood there and stared at him. He pulled away and had given her a shy smile that she would have seen as charming had it been a different situation. As the moments of silence ticked by, her mouth could only hang as one question carved itself into her mind. _Why? _

What compelled him to do this? Why her? What did this mean with Quinn? Would this hurt her? How could he do something that could potentially hurt someone whose heart he supposedly owned?

Rachel had asked him as much and she's certain that she would have asked many more had Finn not interrupted her. He was no longer smiling and had the good grace to look embarrassed. His hand crept up and scratched the tiny hairs at the back of his head as he stared at the floor.

"_I don't know what's going to happen in the future, I just know that I want to spend more time with you now_"

Oh...The things she had felt then.

They are too dark to think about and too painful to recall. However, even with her eyes burning with disappointment she knew that Finn did not deserve to be hurt. Therefore, she bit her tongue and stormed out of the room before she could voice the foreign thoughts clouding her mind.

Suddenly Rachel can't find release in walking. Perhaps it is the fact that she stumbles every other step. Or maybe it's the failure of Humanity's morality that now urges Rachel to feel different. Either way, she shrugs her bag off and lets her wings rip through her shirt and flap for freedom.

Taking an idle glance in either direction, she makes sure that nobody is watching her as she bends crouches and prepares herself for flight.

Her wings flex and she holds herself up on her fingertips as her wings brush the floor. They move so silently around her, soft and gentle in appearance but buzzing with potential energy. Like a compressed coil, her wings wrap around her protectively, prepared to spring.

With a deep breath, she centers her mind and looks up at the clouds swirling above her. A muscle twitches in her leg, her shoulder broaden and slouch under the weight of her wings; with a quick breath she springs into the air. She jumps higher than the normal human, and that gives her enough time to let her wings uncoil around herself.

Flaring out, they act like a parachute and slow her progression to the floor. Taking another breath, she closes her eyes and mentally wills her wings to flap, propelling her higher into the air.

There are many things that keep Rachel from mingling completely with humanity, some of are subtle, others are obvious, and a few are shameful.

But her wings are what she is most proud of. Wings are not the same as having arms on your back. They have a mind of their own, and if one doesn't treat them well it could end in a rather gravity prone day. Potentially, Rachel's wings could stop functioning right now and allow her to sink into the ground with no more than feathers as comfort from the fall.

This beautifully fickle relationship leaves her distinguishable from humans and lets her know that she is in fact still an Angel. Flapping, stretching, twisting, her wings cut through the air and pump her closer to the sun.

Rachel finds the barn far too quickly for her comfort. Maybe it's the fact that she's flying, or that she has yet to stop and join a bird in its cheery song. But she is in no mood for locking herself up in those pensive walls. Knowing that the moment she walks in, her mind will immediately find the need to analyze the moments from today. It is something she is not ready for.

Instead, she spins higher and feels the mist of rain spray against her cheeks as she slices through the air. The world runs away from her as she ascends into the sky. Laughing, Rachel spins and throws her hands out to touch the clouds around her, relishing in the way they dissipate on her fingertips.

Once the bright yellow sun has turned the sky pink, orange, and red, Rachel finally finds her time in the sky to have fit the quota of exercise for her wings. The flight has brightened her mood considerably and she runs her hand through her windblown hair and slaps the numbness from her pink cheeks as she descends into what looks like a park.

She rests into the higher branches of a tree and watches the ground anxiously as the silhouettes of two figures become clear to her.

On the ground, it looks as if the couple are young enough and are familiar with one another. The bigger one is leaning over the slim one and...Angel of Mercy! How is anybody expected to see anything from way up here?

Grumbling, she jumps down a few branches and manages to swing down to a much more comfortable branch with a better view. Settling down once again, she rests on her stomach, letting her legs swing on either side of the branch, and places her chin on her hands.

She practically falls off the branch at what she sees. Or more precisely, _who_ she sees. Noah Puckerman is kissing - Rachel's heart does this funny little thing where it feels like it has fallen from the sky and shatters into a million pieces- Quinn Fabray.

Her very first reaction is to break this interaction up immediately! Does no human find the definition of the word relationship sacred? It is not an angel's word, it is the humans! Why is she the only one that understands the meaning of the word? Perhaps she has made the wrong conclusion to its meaning?

Just as she is about to fly off the branch, she allows herself to pause for a moment, take a deep breath, and consider the possibilities of what could be happening.

Perhaps Noah is another passionate greeter just as Finn had been. But why are there empty bottles around them? Do they also find no value in the environment? Is that...Rachel frowns...She does not very much like what Puck is doing with his hands. She doubts that Quinn appreciates what is happening either since she had objected so violently to Rachel's polite kiss on the cheek.

She must further investigate this...

Leaning to one side, she falls from her branch and lands onto another one. Crawling to its tip, Rachel narrows her eyes and watches.

Quinn's Cheerios uniform has been utterly disrespected to a point where it has been unzipped and pulled almost entirely off. What remains is-what appears to be- creamy, pale skin. There is far too much. Way more than usual. Rachel leans in closer and curls her hands over the branch beneath her; just barely repressing the illogical thought of reaching out to touch and see for herself if Quinn's skin really appeared to be as soft as it looked.

Noah looks daunting on top of Quinn; his movements are strong and determined as he puts his mouth in places that Rachel would have never thought to have put such a thing. It looks as if he were attempting to devour Quinn and Rachel finds it extremely disturbing. Especially since Quinn is so...unresponsive. She just moves her head to the ministrations or moves to the rhythm without really thinking. Her lips part and mash together and her eyes stare unseeingly somewhere beyond Noah's crouched form.

From one angle, Rachel would say Quinn looked somewhat bored. However, she also looked somewhat accosted, guilty, sad, and distant. However, none of the angles show that Quinn is in any way happy over what is happening to her body and it makes Rachel's stomach lurch, almost as if she were hungry but worse.

However, even after seeing all of this. Rachel remains frozen at her spot. She has no way of knowing humans anymore, her every attempt to understand them has only ended in contradiction. Perhaps this unsettling view is something to be treasured to the humans. But Rachel cannot ignore the way Quinn's expression turns when Noah's hands sneak down and run along the base of her thigh.

Rachel has read enough about animals to know what the look of fear is; one would even say that Rachel is an expert on classifying said look on animals, humans included.

Then there is no way Rachel could mistake the way Quinn's hazel eyes widen until a thin circle of white is shown all around the orbs, or the way her lips part into a shaky gasp. It is fear that makes her body squirm and her fingers tighten her grip on the grass around her.

It's something else that keeps her from stopping Noah, for surely he would stop if she asked. But that is something Rachel will no longer worry about. She has one mission in mind. Save Quinn Fabray.

Rachel had no plan in mind when she jumps from the tree. Other than saving Quinn, she had thought nothing else out. She is lucky that her wings were able to function to a point where they slowed the fall to the ground.

Once hitting the ground, Rachel stands paralyzed for a moment, slightly dizzy from the adrenaline and feeling suddenly very unsteady on her feet.

"Hey! Who the hell is out there?" Noah yells into the sky, further frightening Rachel. The sky has darkened and she leans down into the long grass at the appearance of the human, clothed in darkness, as he runs towards the noise she has created.

She is no hero, in fact, Noah and any other human has an advantage of tougher skin on her. The only thing she has on her side is the belief that Noah would not hurt her and her desire to save Quinn. It is a complex thought because while she believes Noah wouldn't harm her, she knows that humans have hurt angels in the past. The cave drawings play in her mind and force fear into Noah's bulky figure. Rachel's heart begins to pound and she curls her wings tightly around her.

"Noah Puckerman!" She calls back at him, although she will admit that it sounds more like a yelp than anything.

"Rachel?" Noah asks, his voice softer now but his form is still tense and his fists are clenched. The drawings on the cave wall play in front of her eyes in a story. The black figures dance around her and stab at whatever expanse of skin they can reach. She's now trembling too hard to stand.

It's silly. She thought that she was different from her other angels. She thought that she had more faith in humans, but in the end, the violent past of her species is more prominent than the actions of her friends. And it's not as if Humans are jumping to defend themselves in this view; she _has_ been slushied _and_ thrown into a dumpster. "Rachel?" He calls again and Rachel forces herself to move slightly closer.

She can see Noah now, his fists have unclenched and he stands on the top of the hill, looking curiously down to where she hides. The streetlight has illuminated his features ever so slightly and has diminished Rachel's native fear. Shaking her head, she swallows the lump in her throat and forces herself to stand up.

"Noah Puckerman!" She repeats in a slightly stronger voice. "I am very dissapointed in you"

"What are you talking about? What are you even _doing_ here?"

"I should be asking you the same thing!" Her voice cracks from the weight of her irritation. She quickly swallows her voice and hopes that Noah didn't notice the difference in her tone.

"Rachel" Noah sighs and starts his way down the hill. "Why are you upset?"

"I'm not upset!" She yelps, feeling embarrassed and further vexed that she got caught. "I'm dissapointed! You should have..." She trails off and throws her hands into the air. "I don't know...You shouldn't be encouraging this!"

Rachel huffs when Noah laughs and looks away from his face, finding his nonchalance too much to bear.

"Babe, this is what I do! I never claimed to be a good guy" He puts his hands to his chest and gives her an innocent smile. Which Rachel finds rather contradictory.

"Where's Quinn?" She huffs and crosses her arms. No matter what Noah says Quinn is going back with Rachel.

Noah stops then and he's quiet for a long moment. They both look back towards the spot where Quinn had been. Nothing. Nobody's there.

Noah curses and stumbles back towards his spot, but Rachel stays and sees a figure clambering down the other side of the hill. Quinn is stumbling towards the street, making a discreet escape for herself. She must have started leaving at the mention of Rachel's name. Because she is too far to have just begun walking away, but not far enough to have bolted the moment Noah was distracted.

Rachel watches as Quinn goes into the street and notices that she is walking rather strangely. Not exactly like Rachel does without the support of her wings, it's more of a sway. As if she were walking on a surface that suffered from a lack of consistency. She stops in the middle of the street, looking just as Rachel had in the prime of her hunger, with one hand clutching her stomach and the other covering her face. As if she could hide her face from the world.

Another strange _zing_ powers through Rachel's mind and sets off a chain reaction of shivers down her back. Something is not right. Dread bubbles and hardens within her as a set of lights, the two white eyes of a beast, turn onto the street. As it barrels down the street, Noah yelps, Rachel's stomach twists, and Quinn remains.

Rachel's in the air before she can blink, she doesn't take the time for the process of flying and instead jumps clumsily into it. She cuts through the air and plummets into Quinn's body the moment the lights come impossibly close.

Quinn gasps as Rachel spins into the air, her wings are just barely skimmed by the force and she yelps and looks back down at the street. It's a car, screeching and driving wildly on the street, moving as if there wasn't a girl there a moment ago just waiting to be smashed.

Everything is happening too fast. Quinn is flailing and Rachel is trying desperately to hold onto her. But Rachel's never been that strong; her heart has always been bigger than her bronze.

Rachel is holding Quinn by the waist and flying so that Quinn is facing the ground. This leaves Rachel suseptable to Quinn's frenzied attack as she reaches behind her and digs her nails into Rachel's shoulders.

All Rachel knows is that she won't last very long in the air.

She flies as quickly as she can towards the barn, not really knowing why she doesn't just let her down on the ground now. But the thought of leaving her to Puck's mouth or another car's doom is too much to let her go. The ruined roof of the barn comes mercifully soon and she collapses into the hole in the roof. Holding Quinn closer, she manuvers herself to take the brute of the fall and lands as such.

Rachel falls on her wings and feels her head snap back onto the floor. Pain bursts behind Rachel's eyes and turns the world around her black. There is a pulse of pain pounding in her head and she feels her grip on Quinn loosen.

The last thing she feels is Quinn's deep breath, her chest expanding and falling right against Rachel's body.

~~ X ~~

Quinn stares up into the night sky. Stars twinkle above her head, little holes of light in the dark blanket of the sky. She blinks and feels something press against her back. Four questions swirl in her mind like the pink wine she'd swirled in her hand just a little while ago. _Why? How? When? What?_

Why had she gone with Puck? How did she get here? When did she drink that last wine cooler? She takes a shaky breath and feels her despair dispell through her lips. She is evil. A sinner. A cheater.

The sky's ominous enormity cannot quell her desolation now; her mind cannot be distracted by the atrociousness of her sin. She walked knowingly into Puck's arms and drank every last drop of the wine coolers he handed her. She had come with Puck with the intention to stab Finn with the same knife of disloyalty. She believed this with the entirety of her soul, even as the wine made her warm and lose focus.

Under the spell of the wine, she could quietly admit that she wasn't angry that Finn cheated on her, in all honesty, she would have let Finn kiss any other woman. As long as he could do it in privacy and allow them to keep their status. It's the fact that he kissed Rachel that had her undone.

But she could hide all of that when Puck had sidled up to her with such a charming happiness in his smile. He obviously wanted her and a strange thought came to her, a solution to a problem that she was still unaware of. She let him kiss her under the pretense of revenge, but very secretly, she was proving to herself that she could enjoy his kiss.

Perhaps Puck could do what Finn couldn't and melt the frigid ice within her and spark some passion. At the time, she had thought that she struck pure genius.

The only problem is that she didn't like his kiss. It's not that he was a bad kisser, although she wishes she could blame it on that; it was the stubble on his chin, the rough feel of his palm against her, and his deep, throaty groans that made her want to gag.

Sniffling, Quinn allows herself to be submersed in self-pity and self-loathing. It is then that she had stumbled upon the problem.

With the combination of the wine and her displeasure, she had allowed her mind to venture into the deep and dark thoughts festering in the subconscious of her mind. Her mind had short-circuited and rebooted into some image of a dimly lit auditorium. Rachel's hands all over her, soft and gentle, and her sweet lips smiling as they roam and kiss the pulse point at Quinn's throat.

At that precise moment, Puck had decided to be brave and roamed his hands a little too far. And Quinn did feel passion, she did feel the spark, and it burned her up from the insides and curled her toes. But it wasn't because of Puck.

Then, something had distracted Puck and Quinn had thought it was a message sent from God to get the Hell out of there. Silly her, it turned out to be Rachel. Ironic, right? Rachel, the very undoing of Quinn's composure, a message from God. Ha!

It's not that she thinks being gay is sinful. It's simply something she can't be. She is Quinn Fabray, head Cheerio, queen of the Celibacy club, and she is on the verge of her parent's love. She can feel it, she's almost there, and she's lived under Grace's perfect shadow for so long. But now, she has almost reached that point in her parent's eyes. And although she understands that the Old Testament is the insane ramblings of a hermit, her parents do not. They live by it, or at least claim to live by it; the overwhelming amount of drinking that happens in the house is apparently invisible to God's eye.

Well...She had tried to escape anyway. Stumbled down the street and...Could barely move without barfing. And now she is here...Which takes her back to the original swirling questions.

She shifts again and groans at the feel of something moving around her. The feeling allows her mind to fall out of its self-criticism and focus on the last question that had rung through her mind. _What_ is she lying on?

With sore limbs, she turns around and finds red and white.

"Oh my _God!_" She yelps and jumps back, attempting to jump to her feet and run somewhere far away. But the moment she lands on her feet, the world sways and tips around her. She trips on a stack of hay and finds herself right where she started. On the ground.

Quinn's heart is pounding now, it pulses trepidation through her veins and makes her breath come out uncatchable. She tries to shake off the feeling of wooziness, shakily moving back into a sitting position, but her head was pounding, and through her fear, she took notice of the small details of her room. Such as it wasn't a room at all, and in fact, was looking to be a large wooden barn.

But the color red flows in her eyes, glazing the entire wolrd into a blur of horror. She blinks, trying desperatly to rid herself of the red and white, of feathers in her mind. With a blink, she moves her hand to her head and searches for any soft spots or blood clumps on her head.

Because so far it feels as though she's fallen into a rabbit hole.

Perhaps she's hit her head and her subconsious has created some kind nightmare. It's the only possibility that makes any sense and it would allow her to forget today's double sin of cheating and drinking. (She's intentionally leaving out feelings for Rachel because the possibility is simply too painful to consider) because if she's not dreaming then the blood leaking from Rachel's wings is real.

Unfortunately for Quinn, there are no soft spots.

With a slow, steadying breath Quinn crawls back towards Rachel.

The girl is lying with her arms stretched by her side and palms facing outward. At the sight of the girl, so vulnerable and hurt, makes her stomach clench and heart flutter.

"Jesus, you're worst than the wine" She mutters and tries to turn away, but like a force of gravity Rachel pulls her back.

What if this isn't a dream? Would that mean that she's gone insane? But insanity would mean that it's only in her head, and she doubts that she can imagine being thrown into the air and just barely missing a car. Unless she didn't actually get flown away and is currently lying on the ground, squashed by the car. But Rachel is still here, and appears to be more hurt than she is. So, if she isn't crazy…Does that make Rachel an angel?

She shakes her head. Too many questions. What she needs to do is find out if this is a dream or reality. Quinn cocks her head and memorizes Rachel's features. If she can allow her mind to believe that the small details are real, then the whole picture must be true as well.

Quinn leans in with a hand and grazes Rachel's palm experimentally, her fingers brush down, feeling the texture of the skin and running along the lines along her palm. She's just about to tell whether Rachel has a long life or not when Rachel's fingers subconsciously curl around Quinn's hand, interlocking their fingers.

Her heart jumps into her throat and she feels her lips quirk up slightly.

Quinn leans in closer, now hovering over Rachel's unconscious form to inspect her further. Her lips are parted slightly, as if Rachel had silently gasped before succumbing to unconsciousness.

Her free hand moves up the thick fabric of Rachel's torn argyle sweater and stop at the soft flesh of Rachel's cheek. It is a possibility that her hand may have run along the edge of Rachel's breast. What of it? This is probably a dream, and if it isn't…Well…Hopefully Rachel is too out of it to feel scandalized.

Faintly, she recognizes the fact that her breath hasn't slowed despite having finished her "freak-out" session a little while ago. Her chest heaves as she looks over Rachel's lidded eyes, watching as the girl's eyes move underneath the blanket of her eyelids. Even from under the haze of unconsciousness, Rachel is desperate to observe.

Slowly and gently, her fingers just barely touch Rachel's eyelids; she can't help but smile at the feeling against her fingertips, fluttering, like the pitter-pat of a butterfly's wings. The feeling is all too real, definitely not something she could make up in a dream.

With a sigh, Quinn moves her gaze to what baffles her most. If this is real, then everything that comes with Rachel is real, including the blood and...The wings.

Trembling fingers move to touch the ivory-white feathers, now tainting the tips with a ruby red of blood.

The wings must be at least twenty feet wide, stretching across the length of the loft with long, white feathers.

_She looks like a fallen angel._

Rachel had saved her from a car and _flew_ her here. She thinks that she's probably in some sort of shock because she figures that she should be a little more freaked out over the fact that she almost died. And she should most definitely not be seriously considering the idea of Rachel being an angel. But Quinn can't help it. Rachel's arms are outstretched and her head is tilted back, leaning to the side just slightly while beneath it all, her wings lay underneath her like a white cloth stained with red wine.

_God's angel finally came for me._

But what does that mean? If this is all true…Is Rachel here to take Quinn to Heaven? Does Quinn even want that? She's only had a short time here, but like her mother likes to say: Sometimes God needs to call his angels home a little early.

Quinn considers that.

She could live out the rest of her "happy years" in High School and get the acceptance she's wanted from her parents. Then she will marry Finn or Puck, depending on who wants her in the end. She could go to college or just jump straight into motherhood. Then as her beauty fades and loneliness starts to take its hold, she'll either start drinking like her mother in attempt to propel herself into a dreamy haze of the past. Or she could accidentally take some sleeping pills and wine. Then go to heaven.

Or she could call it a good life and go now. And now that she thinks about it…What other way to win her parent's love but to give them a victim daughter? Her death would give them an excuse to drink and to always have the respect and love of their fellow church-goers. Dying now would probably be the best thing to do for them. And Grace would probably come back. Win-win situation.

Rachel groans and forces Quinn's mind back on her. Her fingers trail the feather-soft wings, running down the lengths with gentle care. It takes her a moment that Rachel's wings are not perfect, some lay aimlessly about her, some torn and ripped, and some still float down from the heavens, having been caught on the barn's jagged roof.

Her heart jerks and her breathing stops. God, if she dies...Rachel can't die. As the blood comes away with her fingers she rubs her fingers together with an increasing panic.

Rachel is injured. She had the eyes to see the blood and registered what that meant for her, but it isn't until now that it really hits her. Without the disbelief or dreamy haze of alcohol slowing down or dimming the panic, the realization brings. Rachel is_ bleeding_ and _unconscious_.

Quinn gasps loudly, her hands roaming again, now in search of the source of blood. She moves frantically, brushing her hand over the wings, making sure each feather is positioned in the same direction again, combing away the clumps of blood. Thankfully, the wounds aren't as deep as the blood suggests.

They are mere scratches with a lot of blood flow. She feels the hit of relief like a truck to her chest, nearly taking her breath away. Rachel isn't dying. It must have been the fall and not the car that made her unconscious. But still, with this relieving news, she can't help but feel nauseous with the blood spots.

Slowly, she covers the evidence of any blood with extra hay and feathers, as though they would disappear underneath the extra fluff. She makes a small sound of distress when the blood still clings to the white wings and coats her fingers. It looks so unsettling on Rachel, on her small body, her fragile skin.

But she can't think of anything else to do, so, with in a slow and deliberate movement, she sits back to inspect her work. It's then that she notices Rachel's hand moving, gathering hay and putting it on herself just as Quinn had done moments ago - as though it was part of the procedure. Quinn can hardly breath, but she drags her eyes back up to Rachel's face.

"Hello Quinn." Rachel says shyly, and Quinn jumps at the sound, falling back a bit. The girl's eyes are half closed and swirling with exhaustion, but she is smiling and it makes Quinn's heart warm at the sight. She scoots back to the fallen angel, her hand hovering carefully over the girl's body. Her hand moves to touch the soft skin of Rachel's cheek, but at the sight of those dark eyes open and aware, she lets her hand fall on Rachel's stomach somewhat dejectedly. Even so, her fingers have a mind of their own and move slowly over the argyle sweater.

"Hey Rach," She whispers, feeling somewhat shy and ashamed now that she is awake. But she still doesn't take away her hand, watching as Rachel looks kind of startled, blinking and looking back at her with confusion. She looks off to the side and sees the shoddy repair job and then winces as her hand touches the back of her head.

"D-did you just call me Rach?"

Quinn furrows her brows, she's certain that she's called her Rach before.

"Yes, well, that's what you deserve for saving my life." She says softly and suppresses the urge to call her Rach again, and kiss her nose, and grab her cheeks with her hands. Rachel looks at her strangely but smiles all the same.

"Um." She murmurs, looking around her as though someone would provide her with a line to say, like directors on a movie set. Then slowly, she meets Quinn's eyes again. "You...you aren't scared?" she says, looking from her wings to Quinn and back again.

Quinn shakes her head slowly, and smiles, "of course not," she murmurs.

"Oh..." Rachel trails off and looks blankly up at the ceiling, "I-I mean that's good. I wouldn't be frightened either but that seems to be the general reaction I get when people find out about me. Although I've only experienced that once before…" Rachel muses out loud, slowly gaining the energy to act like herself again. With a groan, she moves into a sitting position, forcing Quinn's hand to slide down to the ground and grasp at the hay around them.

"You're an angel" Quinn says somewhat unsurely, as if she isn't supposed to say something like that out loud. Rachel blinks and nods, still looking somewhat baffled at Quinn's reaction while Quinn's heart jumps at the affirmation. "So you know where Santana is!" She murmurs excitedly.

"Or course I do." Rachel says with a half smile, "kind of…" She trails off and presses her lips together into a straight line.

Quinn takes a deep breath. "Can you take me there?"

Rachel's expression contorts into one of surprise but then mixes with pity and sorrow. Frowning gently, she shakes her head.

"I'm very sorry Quinn but I can't do that for you" She says, sounding sincerely upset. "Even if I did still have the Key, it is something that I wouldn't feel comfortable with"

"You need a key into Heaven?" She asks in surprise. That doesn't sound right at all. Quinn feels her heart sink a bit. Does that mean she can't get into Heaven, or was Rachel saying that it wasn't her time? She leaned closer, needing to hear the answers, her fingers clenching into her knees. She has to go to Heaven, right? She's gone to church every Sunday, and has been (almost) the best Christian she can be.

But Rachel doesn't answer her unspoken questions, and instead, she blinks and cocks her head slightly in thought.

"I wouldn't call my home heavenly but it is rather pleasant, yes" Rachel mumbles tiredly. "And you do need a key, but I don't have it anymore."

"What?" Quinn tries to ask softly, as to not scare the angel away. But she can't help the tone of frustration creeping into her voice.

Rachel looks uncomfortable and shifts her hands in her lap, her wings slowly rise from the floor and droop beside Rachel in fatigue. "You wouldn't like it there anyway, Quinn" She mumbles with a yawn. "It is truly boring in every sense of the word"

"Heaven is boring?" Quinn frowns, disappointment leaking into her voice. That _definitely _doesn't sound right.

"Why do you keep calling it Heaven?"

"What are you talking about? That's where Santana is..." She breathes and wills herself to say it "You took Santana to Heaven! Because she...Well...Whatever happened to her. She...died and went to Heaven…"

"Santana didn't die!" Rachel sputters, jumping slightly out of disgust and looking up at Quinn with wide eyes. "She stole the Key to the Looking Glass and I helped her through the portal so that she wouldn't drown!" She blurts and slaps a hand over her mouth. But after a moment, the hand slides off and she shrugs "I mean...Well, yes. She won't be coming back with the key anyway. So I suppose it is alright to tell you"

Quinn bites the inside of her cheek and stares at Rachel. What was Rachel even saying? Looking Glass? Santana isn't dead? If she wasn't dead, then why was she in Heaven.

Quinn let out a slow breath and tried to get a hold of her control, but very quickly, she was feeling increasingly lost and even more frustrated. She takes a deep breath and tries to look like the calm and kind daughter her parents present her to be. As her mother always says: don't bite the hand that feeds you. And, well, Quinn has already done that. But she needs to try for her angel.

But even as she thinks this, doubt starts to creep in, and she starts to take notice of Rachel's true form. Her fragile skin and the dark veins pulsing beneath her skin, the bags underneath her eyes. Her confused brown eyes, showing nothing of the knowledge and brillance of a decendent of the Lord. Rachel looks almost nothing like the angels in the Bible.

But Quinn can't accept it. She needs an angel. "You came here to save me." She mutters lowly, almost desperatly, feeling tears begin to prick at her eyes; she bites the inside of her cheek to keep them from spilling. "Take me to Heaven."

"I thought I just saved you" Rachel huffs, looking bewildered. She checks the ceiling to see the widened the hole in the rotten wood, just to make sure it was still there and that she wasn't dreaming. But then, Quinn's words caught up with her. "Wait..." Rachel blinks and stares at Quinn. "You want to die?" She says the words with a cringe, as if it physically pained her to say them.

Quinn lets out a shaky breath, her heart was beating like a skittish bird in a birdcage. Was Rachel playing her? Acting innocent so she doesn't have to deliver the bad news? She runs a shaky hand through her hair. Did Rachel mean to say something else? Not that there was no Heaven, but that there was no Heaven for _Quinn?_

Quinn lets out a gasp. She is too evil for Heaven. She's stepped on too many toes and has blocked off the door to Heaven. She even blacklisted her own angel. Desperation seizes at her heart and she makes a frantic move towards Rachel, clutching her hand in hers with a frenzied force. Hoping to make a connection with the angel she's hurt, blacklisted, slushied, and watched get thrown in the garbage. God, now that she thinks about it. She's truly been awful. And she thought that putting snacks in her bag would undo the damage she's made? What kind of monster is she?

"Wait, Rachel. Rach, please" Her voice is shaky "I promise that I can change. Please just don't leave me here. I can change and in a few years you can take me home."

Rachel looks ill. Her eyes have begun to tear up and she's paled considerably.

She's looking at Quinn with sad eyes, and Quinn feels even more panicked. She's not convincing her. But Rachel is talking, and it does nothing to soothe her frantic heart. "I don't know what this Heaven is...but, Quinn, I am sure it will still be a lovely place 100 years from now." She says and pats the hand Quinn is holding. "You don't need to go there now." All Quinn can see is an excuse and a closing door.

"No!" Quinn gasps and feels a sob begin to wrack at her shoulders. She holds it in with a deep breath, hoping to keep some form of dignity as she begs. "Rachel, I am so sorry for how I've treated you. I was just scared and stupid. You were right! All along! I-I promise that I won't hurt you again. I promise" Once the words are spoken, she knows that there isn't a bit of insincerity in the depths of her words.

Quinn is pushing herself onto Rachel now, chasing after a last hope that Rachel is the angel she had hoped she'd be. She'd gone through life with a kind of passive air. Living more for the sake of her parents rather than herself and keeping in mind that she will be truly happy in Heaven. But now _that_ is being taken away from her.

Everything she's lived for and all that she will have to do in the future falls onto her like a landslide, suffocating her with thoughts of a mediocre life in Lima, loneliness, and self-hatred. She'd always thought that death would be her helping hand, her relief and guide to a better place where she would have the courage to be herself.

But innocent little Rachel is looking at her with wide, unlying eyes and with her hands outstretched towards Quinn. Trying to comfort her but having no idea what to do. She's lost the instruction manuel to fix the crushing depression humans give themselves

"Quinn..." she begins but is cut off by Quinn pushing her down.

New strategy, be forceful.

"Take me there now! I'm ready!" She tries to scream, tries to be strong. But her voice cracks and tears have begun to spill over. Tears fall down and land on Rachel's face, falling from her nose and eyes, and she can't even bother to wipe them away. Her fingers curl into Rachel's shoulder. "You took Santana. Please. Don't leave me here to dry up and die in Lima. I can't take it. I'm ready to go now." She rants in a raw voice.

She had thought that God loved everyone, even the ones who tended to care a little too much about themselves and their social status. Apparently now...now God may not even exist, and if he does he certainly doesn't give a shit about her. How can an angel exist and not even know what Heaven is?

Rachel lunges forward and takes Quinn's head in her hands, forcing her body to curl up into Rachel's lap. Quinn closes her eyes and lets the reins of control go. Tears spill over and sobs wrack her body.

"I don't know how to help Quinn" Rachel murmurs in a tight, shaky voice, sounding close to tears herself. She rubs Quinn's back slowly in big circles as she sobs. "I don't know what to do" Rachel says in a low voice, sounding as if she were on the edge of hysteria.

Quinn cries until she can taste salt has tainted her her lips and mouth; she cries over 16 years of cold rejection and neglect, cries over her confusion and shame, but mostly she cries over a lost hope.

She cries until her body can no longer stand consciousness and forces her to shut down in Rachel's arms. Quinn falls into a restless and unforgiving sleep. The only thing keeping her grounded from the nightmares of cold darkness is the warm arms encircling her, rubbing her back, guiding her through the night.

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><p><strong>Oh my God. I'm so sorry. Haha I promise you that it isn't as bad as you think! I'm looking forward to write the next chapter so don't crush your head against the wall in frustration! I figure that this is how Quinn would react since she is religious and the tears are a compilation of many things that have built up over the years.<strong>

**Say hello to my longest chapter yet. I hate writing such long chapters. I really do. But I figure that it takes so much time for me to get to the point, if I cut it up into two chapters there would be one chapter of nonsense and inner monoglogues.**

**Tell me how you felt about this chapter and what you want in future chapters. I have a strict plot for this story but I can and will put in a little something a reader wishes to see in the story if it doesn't conflict, of course. **


	9. Chapter 9

The Looking Glass

Chapter 9

Here's to summer!

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><p><em>Warning: vulgar language<em>. ಠ_ಠ

Hello and thank you my dearest readers! I want to thank each and every one of you for reading this story and I'd like to celebrate it's **100** reviews! I was super excited so...yeah.

Ahem. Enjoy!

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><p>"Fuck my life"<p>

Santana groans as the alarm clock beside her bed tries to make her ears bleed with its insistent noise.

She had slipped into her bedroom from the window last night (or early this morning, either way she got no fucking sleep). She groans again and wipes at her bloodied knees, she's never been much of a climber and her windows are high as fuck.

"Why is the alarm clock on?" A muffled voice calls from downstairs and making Santana shoot up from bed. She'd set it last night so that she'd have the time to clean her Cheerios uniform to its previous pristine condition. In her tired state, she had forgotten the small fact that she's been missing for more than two weeks.

Now what? Does she turn it off and let everyone know that she's here or let it run and have someone come up to find her? Hesitating, Santana looks from the alarm clock to the door skittishly before finally lunging towards the alarm clock and slapping it off.

There is a beat of eerie silence as the whole house seems to register the fact that the alarm clock from Santana's room was both randomly set and randomly cut off. Santana sits on the edge of her bed, bouncing her legs in nervous energy as she waits for a reaction.

The stairs creak, the walls reverberate with the slight sound, and Santana waits for the moment the door opens and it is found that her room isn't empty.

The door opens up a crack and from the darkness her mother's face appears, peeking into the room quietly. Santana can see those familiar dark eyes and pasty red lips that seem to be permanently pulled into a grimace. It's the first time she's seen her mother in weeks and Santana has no idea how to feel. She doesn't know whether to be happy, nervous, or resentful to be seeing her mother look at her with such calm, black eyes.

With her mind unable to come up with a reaction, her body molds into a mix of all three of them. Her lips part and her eyes widen into a confused mixture of giddiness and anxiety. As if she were more shocked at being in her own room than her mother was.

"Santana, you're back" Her mother murmurs lowly, her throat working against her thick accent. Back, she said, not: oh Santana, you're home! No questions asked, no concern of any kind only those two words: you're back. As if Santana were on an expected vacation or had just returned from the grocery store.

Santana licks her lips and waits for something more. An explosion of anger, perhaps bitter tears, or even demands for Santana to leave again.

Instead, her mother gives her that half of a smile that she always gives, the one that lifts up at one side and sags on the other. Then she looks up to the left corner of the ceiling, as if searching for something good to say. Anything at all. But she gives up quickly and looks back at Santana one more time before turning away. "Get ready for school, breakfast is downstairs" She calls back as she walks out of the room.

And with that, the door is closed and everything is quiet again.

Santana thrums her fingers against her bed for a moment and purses her lips.

"Right then. Home sweet fucking home" She growls and gets up to get ready.

.

~~ X ~~

.

"What are you doing?"

Rachel looks up from her crouched position and glances distractedly at the random human standing at her side. At any other time, Rachel is certain that she would have been overjoyed to have a human talk to her without her needing to seek them out.

But today, she is on a very important mission and simply cannot be bothered by humans that are not a blonde girl by the name of Quinn Fabray.

The boy had long red hair that almost brushed his shoulders and half-lidded eyelids that partially hid glazed eyes. He looks down at Rachel with an expression tinged with both blank sleepiness and suspicion. This boy also appeared to be an awful mouth-breather.

Reacting to his question, Rachel looks down at herself and her surroundings but sees nothing wrong or confusing about her actions at all.

What is wrong with simply watching over a friend? Admittedly, she may look a little suspicious since she's watching said friend from behind a bookcase. But can anyone blame her? After last night...

The boy, apparently frustrated by her silence, asks her the same question in a dense voice "What are you-"

"Sh!" Rachel cuts in and throws a furious, wide-eyed glare to the boy. "I am currently residing in a very unstable situation as something very bad happened just last night and I am extremely concerned that the fragility of my friend's emotional state may escalate so I am diligently watching over her and hiding because my presence may or may not upset her deeply." She says and turns back to the bookcase.

"But..." The boy murmurs, trailing off in a suspiciously dopey voice and squints his eyes, as if in deep thought. "If you only upset her...Why don't you just leave her alone?"

"I-you-ah-" Rachel huffs and turns back to the boy, "why don't you just go away and perhaps look for a book on proper hygiene!" Rachel stutters, her face reddening at the audacity of this boy. Even so, her heart pinches as he turns to leave. "Thank you! And I meant no disrespect to your cleanliness" she whispers to his back, but the boy doesn't respond and only meanders to some other random place.

Now that she has complete silence to observe in peace, she gets right to it. Bouncing on the balls of her feet, she leans in closer to the case and spreads her fingertips over the books surrounding her. Her nose brushes a book as she fits her eye in the small space to watch.

Quinn Fabray is sitting alone on a library table. Her appearance is perfect as usual, her hair smoothed back into a nice ponytail and her uniform is without wrinkles.

But there are some things that are different that Quinn apparently couldn't hide like the dark circles under her eyes or the slight downward twist of her lips as she stares blankly into the distance, obviously deep in thought.

Oh, she looks so upset. Rachel muses miserably and her lower lip juts out subconsciously at knowing that she's the reason for Quinn's discomfort.

Quinn had left in the dark hours of the early morning, she'd been silent and reserved as she untangled from Rachel's embrace.

Rachel's eyes had been closed, but she was perfectly conscious and every second that Quinn drew away caused a painful throb of her heart. And by the time Quinn reached the door Rachel's lower lip was trembling, just barely restraining her tears. Never before had she experienced such a complex feeling of both sorrow and misery for Quinn and utter despondency for herself as well.

One thing that Rachel had never considered when she left for this world was the consequences of being found out. Perhaps she was overconfident in her ability to hide because the thought of being caught never really crossed her mind. Even when Santana found out about her, Rachel remained arrogant.

She never thought that she would cause pain.

But apparently her very existence is agonizing to some people if Quinn's tears last night are anything to go by.

Rachel dips her head into her arms and puffs out her cheeks, she'd felt so helpless. She'd never seen Quinn cry like that, so uncontrolled and harsh. Rachel's ears still ring with the raw sounds, becoming tangled and sore as they ripped from Quinn's throat. But another feeling was running along with her growing helplessness, and it felt an awful lot like rejection.

Rachel Berry is an angel to the core. She may wear human's clothes and go to human school, but her soul is of an angel and her wings are a part of her. Her wings are a key to her character and her species' past. Although she hides them well, she knows that they are always there. They are just like her ten fingers and two eyes, she was born with them, and she can't change any of that.

So watching a human whose opinion she greatly respects (and desires to hear one day) have such an adverse reaction to something that she wouldn't and couldn't change about herself is beyond excruciating.

Quinn moves her head and her eyes glaze over in what look like a sudden epiphany. Slowly, Quinn parts her lips and Rachel leans in excitedly, waiting for the surely wise words that will leave Quinn's lips.

Quinn sneezes.

Her nose twitches and she shakes her head, blinking away the glaze in her eyes before going back to staring dejectedly at her hands.

Rachel leans back onto her haunches and mulls the sneeze over in her mind. After a moment, she shrugs and pulls out her notebook and pen, recording the sneeze anyway. It may still be important.

There is some commotion outside and both Rachel and Quinn glance at the window at the same time, though Rachel can't see as well from her sneaky position. Rachel does, however, notice a few students bumping and pushed against the glass, as if there were a lot of people outside. The group seemed to grow and...Was that a flash? People are yelling now and Rachel notices a flash of red and white...and black. She almost jumps up and notices that Quinn is hovering over her seat, torn between staying out of the excitement or seeing what was going on.

Shoot. Rachel thinks and knocks her head against a book; there is no way she is going to get out of this without being caught. If Quinn gets up, she's going to notice Rachel in her suspicious position. It would be best for her to jump up and skid out of the room.

Biting her lip, she does just that. And she's rather proud of herself because she's reached the opening to the door without being noticed, but her feet skid against the slippery, porcelain floor and grabs a pile of books in attempt to keep her poor balance.

With both hands on separate piles of books, Rachel slowly steadies herself. Keeping her head down, she tells herself not to look at Quinn; for she knows that whatever expression, whether it be fierce or gentle, sketched upon those flawless features would only cause a new wave of pain.

But as her hand closes around the cool knob of the library door, Rachel's self-control cracks and she turns her head just enough to see two wide hazel eyes gleaming back at her.

In the duration of three seconds, Rachel loses her breath (as if oxygen vanished from the atmosphere) and chokes from what she sees. Something is different and Rachel sees it as easily as if all the rain clouds cleared, dirty ice melted, the curtain fell, to reveal a clear sky, a serene lake, and the prize underneath. Rachel sees two intensely expressive and exotic hazel eyes. Two emotions come barreling at her, pierce straight through her skin and bones, and wrap around her heart: astonishment and mirth.

And then the second ends, oxygen reenters the world, and Quinn looks away; despondency sags her eyelids and shame colors her cheeks. Rachel shakes her head and pulls the door open with a little too much force, frustrated with herself for looking and for being right.

"Hey Berry! You wanna help me out here?" A voice cuts in, sounding both like the trill of laughter and an impatient sigh.

Rachel frowns and looks through the crowd and looking for the specific voice, it truly is too big for someone her size to sift through. However, somewhere in the middle of the maze, Rachel sees another flash of red and white and moves her eyes up to see Santana waving to her hastily.

Oh! Santana!

Beaming, Rachel rolls onto her tip toes and waves excitedly at the girl.

Santana frowns and throws up her hands as if to say "what are you doing?" and then proceeds to push a boy off her. In the movement, the necklace around her neck bounces into the air and reveals glimmering, golden wings.

And in that moment, Rachel realizes two things: firstly, she remembers that Santana had stolen from her and secondly (most importantly) Santana can help her. Santana knows Quinn best and has put herself into a very similar situation; she'll know what to do!

With that, she takes a steadying breath and storms head first into the convulsing crowd of incessantly grabbing hands. Though she'll never admit it, her short stature does actually help her to get through it since she is able to lunge through the small gaps people make with their exaggerated movements.

As a boy steps in front of her and asks in a booming voice where Santana had been all this time, Rachel stumbles around him and grabs blindly for the girl she knows is somewhere near her. Her fingertips find skin and she quickens them around an elbow, and pulls with all her might until she sees Santana's wide eyes staring back at her.

"Hello Santana! How are you? This is rather an odd occurrence, I don't think I've ever seen your kind collect quite like this. Have you? It's fascinating although admittedly frightening. Ow! Wha- Santana! I think someone has stepped on my toe! How incredibly rude!" Rachel yells, her chin jutting up proudly as she looks around her for a culprit.

"That was me Berry! Shut up and get me the fuck out of here!" Santana screeches back at her.

Grumbling, Rachel leans and pulls Santana with all of her might, slowly maneuvering them out of the crowd as one would trudge through waist deep mud.

"Santana, I wish that you wouldn't use violence to get what you want for it doesn't leave a good impression in my mind. I'm afraid that this is strike two since I've only talked to you twice and in those rare and far in between occurrences you've stolen from me and now injured me" Rachel rambles on as she guides Santana to a more secluded spot. "I was very frustrated by getting my only key back home stolen and yet I have yet to hurt you. I am, by the way, still hurt that you had tricked me so maliciously."

Santana shoves her elbow from Rachel's grasp and lowers her shoulders with a smirk.

"You really do like to talk" She observes and shakes herself off with a hand. Shrugging, she turns around and starts walking away, waving a hand over her shoulder. "Thanks I guess"

"Wait!" Rachel calls, wringing her hands anxiously in front of her lap and stepping forward with her eyes roving over Santana's back. "Please, I'm sorry for talking. I intended to ask something of you...I-I need to ask a favor"

Turning around slowly, Santana looks down at Rachel with an impassive turn to her lips.

"I'm not going to give you back the Key, Berry" Santana replies.

Rachel dips her head and looks down at her hands as she fidgets and pulls at her fingertips.

"I know" she murmurs, her voice soft and submissive. "But that's not what I was asking. Although I miss home very much and I miss my friends more than I imagined I would. I don't want to go home...I-I can't. Not yet. Especially not now"

Quirking an eyebrow, Santana mashes her lips together and plays mindlessly with the necklace between her thumb and pointer finger.

"Alright Giggly, you've got my attention. What do you want?"

A slow breath rasps through Rachel's lungs and tries to repress the nervous energy that makes her fidget like this. Perhaps it's just a natural instinct an angel will always get around a stronger human. For a moment, Rachel's mind gets off track and she wonders...if things had gone differently all those centuries ago...would the roles be reversed? Would Santana be the one cowering and Rachel, superior?

Shaking her head, she pushes such random thoughts from her mind and traces back to Quinn.

"Last night...something happened and Quinn knows about me...and...And..." The lump in her throat grows and chokes Rachel off; with a gulp, she takes a breath and attempts to start again. "And I fear that Quinn no longer wishes to be my friend."

Santana cocks her head, an odd smile curls at one side of her face and remains still on the other. She looks...sympathetic.

"Quinn will never be your friend."

"No, no.." Rachel laughs and places her hands in the air, fingers spread wide to look like miniature Stop signs. Forcing Santana's ridiculous (and painful) words from consideration. "You weren't here, I grew on her you see...We kind of hung out that one time and she fed me soup! She puts little treats in my bag...a-at least she did, not today of course because... she knows about me..."

"Do you know her phone number? Does she even talk to you when she isn't absolutely forced to? Ah- look, I'm not going to get into this with you. " Santana finishes and steps back. "She's popular and you're not. Nothing more to it, so don't waste your time. That's my advice."

"Everyone keeps saying that but I believe that Quinn has interests go much deeper than popularity." Rachel interrupts, her voice hitching towards the middle of the sentence in hysterical desperation. But Santana just shakes her head.

"I know that this must be hard for you to understand since you're pretty much designed to be forever optimistic. But Quinn, as well as every other popular kid at this school, really is that shallow. Only it's worse because she's fucking Head Cheerio, and there is no way she would jeopardize that for...you. There's just too much to lose. Trust me, you are on completley different worlds." She pauses and laughs a little bit to herself, "literally, but on a social scale too. Do you understand?"

Her voice is soft and sympathetic but her words cut like knives. She might as well be laughing maniacally and squeezing lemon juice onto Rachel's wounds. Rachel clenches her jaw as her heart sinks down to her toes and squish between her bones like how her soaked socks squish in her shoes.

"I think that you're wrong" Rachel replies forcibly although her voice trembles with tears. "And I think that you are far too mean for my home." She adds on in an almost petty tone, looking up at Santana haughtily before stepping back. "I-I need to go" She whispers and turns on her heel, hair flipping as she starts her storm off.

Santana stares after her, exasperation hitting her features. God, does nobody listen to her anymore? All she'd done is give Rachel some fucking tough love and some awesome advice. Which is something the delusional girl desperately needs, by the way, but she'd rather live in her doomed fantasy world. "...I'm not too mean for the angel world" she grumbles and sneers at the floor.

Rachel dips her head and her eyes squeeze shut with silent tears. Her lips turn down as she tries to suppress the tears until her face turns red from all the effort. She looses the fight as she rounds a corner, her lips part and choked tears escape her knotted throat. It takes a few minutes for the choking tears to pass and for deep, heavy breaths to replace the hiccups and uneasy whines.

After that, she leans against the wall and watches as people begin to surround Santana again, and although they are considerably calmer this time around Santana still looks irritable from their attention. Oh wait, no, Santana is glaring at her. Glaring at her. Rachel stares back, considerably confused by the human's reaction for it seemed rather backwards. What right does Santana have to be upset with her? It's not like Rachel told her that nobody wanted to be her friend.

After a moment, Santana pushes at the crowd again and starts towards Rachel. Her black ponytail whips and her lips contort into an angry scowl, making Rachel cower slightly into the wall.

"God damnit Rachel! You and your stupid puppy dog eyes, Fuck you. Your world has ruined me. Actually no, this is all Brittany's fault!"

Rachel watches Santana as she approaches, her eyes roving anxiously over the girl's angry appearance and strangely contradicting words. Her eyebrows furrow and she bites her lip.

"Who is Brittany?" She asks, her voice soft once again and without indignation. Darn it, she never can remain angry.

Santana sighs and raises a hand to her forehead, rubbing gingerly at her temples. "Who is Brittany? Jesus Christ. You people...are... " she shakes her head. "You know what? Never mind. Brittany is your friend. You know, your blonde...angel girl."

"Oh..." Rachel says, her eyebrows raising slowly. "I suppose I'm glad that you named her since I could never think of anything that fit he- Wait! Does this mean that you'll help me?" Rachel gushes and clasps her hands under her chin, begging.

Santana rolls her eyes and motions around her with a shrug, as if to say: do you see anybody else hanging around?

"Whatever, I still think you're an idiot for trying but...I don't fucking know just..." She mumbles something and blushes, scratching her head. Rachel perks up at the show of anxiety and regards Santana carefully, her eyes shining.

"Excuse me?" She asks innocently, cocking her head and suddenly feeling rather grand. Santana huffs and rolls her eyes.

"Fuck, don't make me say it. Christ! Okay! Fine! I don't like seeing you cry..." She mumbles and Rachel squeaks, making Santana dip her head in irritation, her eyes narrowing. "Don't get too excited Berry, I just think that it's ugly...I mean...It's just an unpleasant sight to see, so I thought that I'd do the world a favor. You know..." Santana trails off and scowls at the ground.

"Thank you very much Santana! I knew that you were secretly a decent person!" Rachel squeals and claps excitedly.

"Shut up!" She huffs, and Rachel waits as she curses to the ground. "Look, I'm just going to help you this one time and I don't even know if it'll work." Santana prefaces, still blushing in embarrassment. "It's a long shot but...I guess it could work...You're going to go to Quinn and make a big dramatic scene like you just did and tell her that you're leaving because blah, blah, blah. And then wait at the Looking Glass...If you mean anything to her, and I'm not saying that you do, she'll meet you there by the end of the day"

Rachel furrows her brows and goes over the plan in her mind. It seemed almost flawless except for one tiny detail.

"Santana...I don't think I can do that" Rachel mumbles uncertainly, "I can't lie to save my own life" and Santana quirks an eyebrow, seeming to mull over the information.

"That is true, you are so very lame" She hums, tapping her finger at her chin before making a sound and waving her hand dismissively. "Whatever, I have a better plan. You go straight to the Looking Glass and I'll do the rest."

"Great" Rachel chirps and puts her hand out, smiling softly. Santana recoils and looks down at the hand in abject disgust.

"What the fuck are you doing?" She asks and Rachel looks down at her hand, furrowing her own eyebrows.

"I need the Key"

"Why?"

"Santana!" Rachel huffs, exasperated. "I really, truly cannot lie! You can't expect me to pretend to leave without a Key!"

Santana looks at her doubtfully, pursing her lips and narrowing her eyes before slowly pulling the necklace over her head. She holds the warm middle in her hand and slides her thumb over the pulsating bead, feeling the warmth, and smiles softly at the delicate little thing. Reluctantly, she holds it over to Rachel, who plucks it gently from Santana's hand and holds it as one would hold a lost treasure. "How is...Brittany?" She asks, her brows furrowing.

"She misses you" Santana replies, "they all do but I'll be sure to tell you that you're alive and well" She hums, nodding purposely towards the necklace. "If I don't get the necklace back, I'll ruin whatever relationship you wanted with Quinn" Santana says simply with an almost nonchalant shrug. As if the threat meant nothing to her.

Rachel gulps gently and looks down at the treasure in her hands before nodding slowly.

"Fine" Rachel murmurs and Santana steps back and turns around. But Rachel bites her lips as Santana tries to make her escape, feeling desperately in need for comfort. Her hands come down to clench at the material of her skirt as she pipes up once again. "Can I have a hug?"

Rachel watches desperately (and hopefully) as Santana drops her head and sighs loudly. Very slowly, Santana turns to look back at Rachel.

She glares at Rachel as she smiles brightly and shifts her weight from foot to foot.

"Are you fucking kidding me? A hug? Am I your mother? _Dios mio_. I don't even _want_ to know how you managed to survive this long!" Santana grumbles, shaking her head. But before Rachel can hang her head in rejection, she hears a low grumble and sees the girl open her arms.

Immediately, Rachel's face brightens and her heart springs back to its normal place, thumping happily once again.

Without wasting a second, Rachel bounds into Santana's embrace and nuzzles her cheek into whatever warmth she can find. Santana slowly puts her arms over Rachel's shoulder and pats awkwardly.

In the back of her mind, Rachel dully notes that Santana's hugs do not compare to Quinn. While they are warm, satisfactory, and even endearing they simply are not as fantastic, gripping, heartwarming, and all around as pleasing as Quinn's embrace. But they will do.

"Alright freak, petting session over" Santana mumbles, Rachel sighs, lets go, and steps away slowly. She smiles softly at noticing Santana's embarrassed blush.

"You get embarrassed easily, Santana." Rachel observes, smiling widely and making Santana curse (and blush harder).

"Yeah well, you're embarrassing." She grumbles, scratching the back of her neck. Rachel snorts and giggles somewhat hysterically, still feeling dizzy and sick from the aggressive emotional whirlwind she's been on all day.

With a wave to Santana, she takes a deep breath, and starts off towards the Looking Glass.

.

~~ X ~~

.

There must come a point where surprise no longer exists.

It only makes sense, right? If a person were to experience mind-boggling events one after another, eventually they would become acclimated to the sense of utter helplessness that overwhelms them. And the words: what is happening? simply aren't used anymore, though the confusion still exists.

It's like living through a hurricane or an awful earthquake; there comes a point in time where the desperate screams of distress cease and leave only silence as the person stares, awestruck, at the desolation that was once their beloved home.

Quinn...has yet to reach that point.

So unfortunately, when she sees Santana embracing Rachel, confusion devastates her as she takes yet another mental step towards that eerie calm at her bewilderment.

Santana, a person who until very recently was thought to be dead, was hugging Rachel, an angel but not in any way the angel Quinn needed her to be. And that was the first shock, the aftershock came to her a moment later along with a question: why are they hugging? It echoes loudly in her head.

She watches silently as Rachel practically skips away and noticed two things: first, she was absolutely glowing, and second, she was holding something in her hands. The object swung from her hand as she pumped her arms in a way that Quinn can only assume helps her walk faster.

Then, Quinn's eyes are onto Santana; her fingers curl around the edge of the table, watching her best friend watch Rachel leave, a bitterness seizing her heart and making the pump of her blood feel painful. It throbs in her neck and wrists and makes her feel weak. Why is Santana watching Rachel? Why did they hug? What is she carrying?

Quinn watches Santana turn around, their eyes lock and a flash of recognition registers in those black eyes; she watches Santana smirk and saunter closer, the same sway gravitating her hips like it always used to. And it's so familiar that she can't help but feel the bloom of warmth in her chest, the little bit of affection she always used to feel for Santana, whether she showed it or not.

"Hey Q, did ya miss me?" Santana calls out with a smirk on her lips. While Quinn feels happy to see her friend, like a weight at last leaving her shoulders, it doesn't last long.

Because as much as Quinn wishes she could just stop and revel in the happiness of her friend's return. She can't. Quinn's mind is always moving, always buzzing with an agitated energy. Always swerving away from warm embraces and happy, jovial moments as if they were trap rooms slowly closing in on her.

Instead she moves onto the next subject, it's like nursing multiple wounds. Pressing the alcohol sodden cotton ball into the infected, sticky, red cut will always hurt. But once the pain is gone, she can never just sit and enjoy the safety of the band aid against her cleaned cut. She'll just move onto the next one.

So here she is, pressing the cotton ball onto her wounds. Moving from one dulled pain and confronting another.

"What were you doing with Rachel?"

Santana's demeanor falls a bit, the smirk tightening to a firm line and her eyes hardening into a flat color of unhappiness. "Jesus, nice to see you too Quinn" She bites out and steps closer, rolling her eyes. "Did you miss me at all? Or did you sweep my absence so far under the carpet that you forgot I existed?" She snaps.

_I'm Sorry_.

It sounds so easy in her head, so simple and relieving. But she's had 16 years of training against those two words. (Don't apologize to your peers, there is nothing to be sorry for) so when she opens her mouth to utter them, nothing comes out.

Santana notices this and shakes her head slowly, biting her lower lip as she does so. "Forget it," She says and runs a hand through her hair. "I've just come to tell you that Rachel is leaving. Going home"

Quinn furrows her brows and feels her throat close up.

"What are you talking about?" She says slowly, disbelieving of the words and what they might mean; but her heart is picking up and beating painfully

against her chest and she feels the panic start to close around her.

Santana raises an eyebrow, her eyes flickering across Quinn's hard face, and finds the hint of hysteria just underneath the cool and hard hazel eyes.

Quinn watches with clenched teeth as Santana shrugs, seemingly aloof with life and the world. It's now that she realizes that she was wrong about Santana. She has changed. There is something about her...She's nonchalant. Like she's no longer connected to this world. Her eyes are distant, as if she wishes to see something else. To be somewhere else.

"I told you, Rachel's skipping out on you and going back to her world. I guess she's getting tired of all the crap you guys loaded onto her while I was gone." She hums with a shrug.

Quinn squints and looks away, tears well in her eyes and she blinks them away immediately. Another second of rapid blinks, she's successfully placed the cold mask over her features.

"I have no idea what you're talking about" Quinn forces out, but her eyes flicker away at the last word and drop to the corner, unable to meet Santana's eyes.

Santana sighs and looks somewhere far away, somewhere off campus, towards the forest. Quinn warily notes, almost in disbelief, that she looks homesick.

"You have no idea?" Santana asks dryly, her voice crackling with half-hearted sarcasm. "I guess I should remind you then: Rachel is an angel and there's nothing you can do to change-"

"Shut up" Quinn snaps, her head snapping up to meet Santana's bored gaze. "I don't care, let her leave. Just shut up before somebody hears you." She adds in a harsh whisper and Santana rolls her eyes, her upper lip twitching involuntarily.

"Oh, you mean all these people?" Santana says, gesturing to the empty quad around them. "All these people? You paranoid psycho?"

"Have you only come back to torture me?" Quinn whispers and her voice turns up at the end, almost signifying the sentence as a question, but her

tone is far too dark for it to be legitimate.

"No, Quinn. Actually I came back because I missed my best friend and I thought I'd help you out." Santana pauses and glares down at Quinn "But I should have known that you'd have your head in your ass. But no, clearly I'm the bitch who came back to make you miserable." Santana retorts, "but you know, I might as well go back because it seems like you're doing a pretty good job yourself. No need for me to be here." she mumbles bitterly at the end.

Quinn purses her lips and looks away, her fingers fidgeting uncomfortably as Santana's words fill her mind; they swarm through the meat of her brain, eat at the nerves, and leave her unfocused and uncertain. Santana apparently isn't up for her usual tricks, so Rachel must really be leaving.

Rachel is leaving.

Rachel, the angel that's turned her life upside down.

Rachel, the angel who knows nothing of God or Heaven and told her that she couldn't save Quinn.

Rachel, the angel who held her through the night and rubbed her back, the girl with the saddest eyes she has ever seen.

Last night, Quinn had made a mistake.

She let herself hope.

She hoped that Rachel could take her somewhere far away from Lima. She hoped that Rachel could change her destiny and save her from the slow suffocation that is her future. In those short few moments, Quinn had built her hope up to the size of mountains and she swore that she could almost touch Heaven.

And then Rachel looked at her with that expression, and all that hope crumbled to the ground.

It's not that she doesn't believe anymore. No, she's worked too hard over the years to protect her faith. If she were to tear it down now, it would probably kill her. But her faith did nothing to mend her throbbing heart. It's like someone gave her a box and told her that whatever she wanted would be in there, and then when she opened the box, it was empty. The disappointment was simply too much to bear.

It would be easier for Rachel to leave. Then Quinn could pretend that none of this ever happened. She could live her life, resigned to her fate, and forget that torturous glimmer of hope.

"Hello? Q? Anyone there?"

"What do you want?" Quinn asks, trying to remain somewhat dignified but her guard seems to have slipped off with her thoughts, leaving her voice vulnerable and hoarse. Blinking rapidly, she fights against the tears in her eyes and focuses on Santana's blurry form. "What do you want from me?" She asks again.

Santana's expression falters, contorting with a sickening amount of sympathy, and forces Quinn to look back down at her hands.

"Look, Q, just...Skip the rest of the school day, use one of Sue's passes and go to the pond in the forest. The one that I passed out at. Okay? Santana says and Quinn grimaces.

When Quinn doesn't respond, Santana curses under her breath and turns to leave. "See ya later, Q" she mumbles as a weak goodbye.

As if announcing Santana's absence, the late bell rings and brings Quinn's head down into her hands. The heels of her hands press into her eyelids until spots of light zigzag across her sight.

"Damn it" She whispers softly and her frown deepens. Subconsciously, her head tilts towards the only school exit that isn't monitored. Behind that, the tips of the forest trees reach her eyes and silently invite her into their ominous woods.

.

~~ X ~~

.

A faint dew falls from the canopy of trees and wet Rachel's cheek. A small smile pulls at her lips as she wipes at her cheeks, her legs pump through the water slowly and she occasionally looks down and admires the way the water ripples.

She's been waiting here for close to an hour and has yet to see Quinn. But she won't let her spirits be dampened because she has complete and total faith in Santana's abilities.

Rachel nods her head and tells herself this again and plays with the key in her hand; she would be a liar to say that during the wait she didn't consider slipping into the Looking Glass and checking home for a little while. But she doesn't want to miss Quinn, and she really doesn't want Santana to go through with her threat.

Instead, she distracts herself with her surroundings.

Rachel smiles when she finds that a sparrow has perched on the lowest branch of a tree closest to her. It's an odd little thing with small, beige feathers covering its stomach and long, dark feathers over its back. And a small mask of black, soft feathers is placed right between the skittish creature's beady black eyes.

Rachel smiles politely and watches as the creature hops from branch to branch and after a few minutes of this, she notes that the bird obviously suffers from an almost constant state of panic. For it seems that every few seconds the bird would extend its wings and flinch as if a predator were going to swoop down and pluck it straight from its secluded branch.

But every once in a while a sweet, melodic tune finds a way out of the creature's dark beak.

Smiling, Rachel echoes the bird's song with a whistle of her own and laughs as the bird stops, turns its tiny head, and stares at her with two beady little eyes. Rachel whistles again and watches as the bird suffers a moment of hesitation, it's head turns from side to side and chirps anxiously before hopping closer to her.

A soft smile forms on her lips and she waits until the bird gains confidence before whistling this time, and then the bird is following her lead. Echoing her melody with sweet trills and soft chirps.

Their duet is sweet and for a few moments they each chirp an answering call, calling the sparrow a little closer. By the time Rachel stops she sees that it's only a foot away from her; it cocks its head from side to side again, observing her curiously with those shiny black eyes. The sparrows chest puffs out confidently, making Rachel giggle softly and extend a hand. Without hesitation, the bird flies and perches on her finger with a bright, happy song bursting from its beak.

"Well hello Birdy. Not so afraid now, are you?" Rachel coos and the bird chirp softly again although she very much doubts that the little thing actually understood her. "You're very talented" She hums, running a gentle finger over the birds head and is delighted to see it nuzzle against her. It's fascinating to see such a fearful thing relax in her hands, as if it were drawn to her, comforted by her.

There is a sound behind her, like the snap of a twig, and both the bird and Rachel snap their heads to the intruder. Before Rachel can register who it is, the sparrow slips from her fingers and flies away, the spell having been broken. Her hands lay in her lap and her mouth is partially open as the intruder finally creeps from the shadows and shows itself.

A wider grin overwhelms the previous smile as her mind registers the sight of Quinn Fabray twisting her fingers nervously and leaning shyly against a tree.

"Oh, Quinn Fabray! How unexpected!" Rachel chirps with shining eyes, silently thanking Santana. "How coincidental is it that you've found me just a moment before I am about to leave forever?" She says with a light laugh, but the lie rings out in her voice in a flat, awkward tone. Clearing her throat, she decides to change the subject. "What brings you here?"

Quinn leans against the tree so that her cheek presses into its rough bark, she clench pensive and anxious, as if she hadn't expected Rachel to be here. She'd hoped to be too late. It hurts to know that a part of Quinn wanted Rachel gone, but she pushed through it. She was here now, wasn't she?

"You're leaving." It isn't a question, nor is it a demand. Rachel feels her heart twist painfully in her chest.

A part of her wants to tell Quinn the whole truth: she can't leave.

She wants more than anything to be close to Quinn. To understand her. To illuminate the darkness within her and see the twist that has fascinated her since the very beginning.

Ever since her youth, Rachel's always been able to focus an astounding amount of energy on things that she is passionate about. Which is why she hoards the solos in Glee club. But humanity is first in Rachel's mind. Her passion for humanity derived from a lack of understanding and has since grown into fascination. And now, she imagines humanity to be like a needy child that begs for her undying attention; Rachel complies to its cries and pushes everything else out of her life, asking only for answers in return.

"Do you want me to go?"

The question seems to startle Quinn and she coils within herself, her expression grows taut and her jaw clenches as her eyes slide over the expanse of the meadow as if the scenery could help her find an answer.

"That's not what I asked" She replies hotly and Rachel can see that she's fighting to remain stoic. To keep the upper hand. Rachel shakes her head, the poor creature.

"Are you okay?" She asks, getting up from her sitting position and facing her soon-to-be best friend (although, technically she still has to reach the official friendship mark). Quinn squirms and looks behind her as if the vast forest were a dark, tight corner she was being backed into.

Rachel steps closer, keeping her voice calm and gentle, moving towards Quinn as if she were a wounded animal. Which isn't too far off base anyway, Quinn, as well as humans and angels, is just an intelligent animal. And after last night, Rachel can assume that Quinn is at least emotionally wounded.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Quinn challenges, straining her instinct of deflection as far as it can go. Rachel fights to keep from rolling her eyes, this is just what she feared: Quinn, acting as if last night hadn't happened. Didn't she know how unhealthy that is? To ignore every bad feeling as if they didn't exist? How torturous.

"Quinn" Rachel coos, causing the flustered girl to gulp and look down at her hands. She looks skittish and glances behind her, ready for flight, just like the sparrow Rachel had acquainted herself with just a few minutes ago. "I want to help you, but I need you to communicate with me. I can't read your mind. You need to trust me and know that I'm just as lost as you are, okay? I need your help. Won't you help me help you?"

But even as her pleading words leave her lips, she knows that they are useless. The statement hits deaf ears. Quinn's eyes begin to harden into amber rocks and she rolls her shoulder, becoming a solider and defending her own vulnerability.

However, Rachel does have one weapon of her own and before Quinn can strike, Rachel counteracts. With a quick breath, she lets her wings slide out from their prison. Her wings shear through her sweater with almost no resistance and the meadow is filled with a pleasant ripping sound as they break free. Battered and bloody, her ivory wings spread out across the meadow and shudder with the faintest breeze.

They are in sincere need of cleaning and grooming, but she's glad she didn't try to fix them; her wings are the freshest and most painful proof that last night is, in fact, in existence.

Quinn looks visibly upset now, the sight of Rachel's wings have created severe cracks in her cool mask and her pent up emotion seeps through the fractures. With another step backwards, Quinn is pressed against the thick, looming figure of an oak tree. Now, with nowhere to go and no way to ignore last night, Quinn finally lets her mask fall.

However, unlike the last time Rachel had accidentally cornered Quinn, it isn't anger that has sketched itself across her expressions. Instead, she stares fully at Rachel with wide, teary eyes and trembles wildly. It leaves Rachel to wonder just how much has changed since her last "confrontation" with Quinn in Finn's kitchen.

Before Quinn can stop her, Rachel has stepped forward and placed her arms around Quinn. She can hear Quinn's hitched breath and uses whatever strength she may have to pull Quinn away from the tree. And then, ever so gently, her wings maneuver around the two girls. Creating a safe tent of feathers (only slightly stained with blood).

Although Rachel is smaller than Quinn, her wings are not. So while Quinn stands in Rachel's embrace, trembling nervously and looking wildly around her, Rachel's wings tighten around them, simulating the warm and soft embrace a mother gives to its child. Secure, soft, gentle, and safe. All the things these humans are so sadly unaccustomed to.

By the way Rachel's head rests on Quinn's chest, she can feel the hard and shallow rise and fall Quinn makes with each panicked breath. Closing her eyes, Rachel focuses on the task at hand: calming her favorite human. Comforting her, just as she had done with Berry and the sparrow.

With a deep breath, she hums a song that she'd heard on the radio, the notes spilling from her lips and leaving an unwoven melody. It's recognizable, and the humans know it as May It Be, but Rachel knows it as a sweet and trilling melody. Rachel hadn't thought of memorizing the lyrics, so she was left with her wordless hum, but the song was soothing and sweet, and it seemed to do the trick.

As Rachel goes through the refrains of the song, occasionally repeating parts that she'd liked to hum, she notices the way Quinn's breathing slows. But she doesn't stop until she feels that one breath of surrendering relief. However, Rachel does notice that although Quinn's breathing has calmed considerably her heart still pounds and sputters in Rachel's ear.

But that's okay, she quite likes the sound of Quinn's heart. It's comforting and imperfect, which seems to fit her definition of humanity thus far.

Quinn takes a deep, steadying breath and it seems that her whole body moves with the breath in one fluid movement. Rachel doesn't have to look up, she doesn't even open her eyes, to know that Quinn is crying. But it isn't the raw, body-wracking sobs from last night. The utter shock and desolation has leaked from her and left her with warm and silent tears, slowly rolling their way down her cheek.

"Quinn?" Rachel asks softly, dipping her toe into the dark, mysterious water. Tempting to throw everything out of balance once again. "Why did you come?"

There's silence for a long time and Rachel braces herself for the shoves and insults to come flying.

But none of that happens, instead, Quinn takes a deep sigh and Rachel can feel the press of Quinn's hot cheek against her neck. Subconsciously, Rachel's grip tightens around Quinn and her hands start a slow circle pattern at her lower back.

"Santana said..." Quinn pauses as her breath catches, hitching in her throat and making her shake her head. "I don't want you to leave" She whispers, so quietly, as if those whispered words held her deepest secrets and she was afraid someone was listening.

"I'm not going anywhere" Rachel reassures, a smile spreading across her lips as her gaze stretches over the tent her wings have created. There is another gap of silence and Rachel swears she can feel Quinn relax in her embrace. It gives her a sweeping wave of confidence and before she can think twice, she's speaking again. "Are we friends then?"

Another long pause and Rachel furrows her brows when she hears an odd sound that reminds her of the slosh of gravel in a bucket of water. Laughter. Cold and bitter laughter. Only a human could twist an expression of joy and mirth into something as sad and cruel. The realization hurts Rachel like that first icy slap of slushy.

Ignoring the numerous needles that simultaneously stab into her heart, Rachel leans back and looks into Quinn's eyes. "Why do you laugh? I would be a good friend to you. I would make you happy and we could talk in the hallways and sing together and-" Rachel rambles off, loosing track of her own mind, as Quinn pulls back.

The short burst of derisive mirth has drained from her voice and left it sounding just as raw and hoarse as before.

"You aren't human"

Rachel pauses and her expression pinches in confusion.

"You just said that you didn't want me to leave but now you're saying that we can't be friends? You're sending some mixed messages, Quinn."

Quinn pulls back, forcing Rachel to see the unhappy scowl on her face. A little ball of dread collects in the pit of her stomach, but the bounding optimism pumping in her heart manages to keep it down.

"I wasn't going to come. I just..." She pauses and stares helplessly over Rachel's shoulder, through the small sliver between her ivory wings and into the dusty light of the meadow. "It would be easier if you left...But I don't want you to go...But your mere existence contradicts everything I've grown up with" She hesitates again and swallows in a painfully slow gulp, as if each word she uttered were choking her. "But I don't want you to go" She whispers again, reiterating her confused state of mind.

Rachel keeps back the impatient huff that threatens to break from her, she should have known better. It was silly of her to not expect more contradictions. Silly, stupid angel.

With a breath, Rachel takes Quinn's tortured, wringing hands and slows their ministrations. With her other hand, she takes the key out from under her sweater and places it in Quinn's open palm. She can hear Quinn's surprised gasp as she feels the warm, pulsating heat from the golden wings and small, clear bead. Rachel doesn't need to look up to see the surprise etched across Quinn's face, she can hear it in her breath and feels it in the way Quinn's posture tenses against her.

An erratic beat of the heart later and Rachel can see Quinn's elegant, baby pink fingers curl around the necklace into a loose fist. It's the first act of acceptance that the girl has shown. The key is real, it's warm and glimmers with a mixture of silver and gold, it has a history. A history that neither girl can ignore.

"It's true that I'm not human, and I'm not the angel you thought I was, but if you give me a chance I would like to show you who I am. And I hope that you can do the same for me." Rachel stops to bite her lip, wondering if she should add anything else. "I would very much like to call you my friend Quinn, I like-" She gulps and the words fly right out of her mind. Like? What do you like? Why are you drawn to Quinn beyond everyone else? Is it because she's a mystery? Or is it something else? "But if you would prefer it, I can call our relationship a partnership or acquaintance. But either way, I can't leave you alone."

Quinn parts her lips, her brows furrowed in thought, but Rachel decides that she isn't quite done yet. "And you'll only hurt yourself if you try to pretend that last night never happened" Rachel challenges and her wings broaden as if to help make her point. Quinn's gaze falls to the ivory feathers dipped in brown, crusted blood. "Will you give me a chance?"

Quinn's expression turns down even more, dipping down from conflicted into sad insecurity.

"Why?" She takes a breath when her voice cracks and tries again, "nobody ever _just_ wants to be my friend." She says, her voice wavering uncertainly.

Rachel raises her head and smiles proudly.

"Because you fascinate me, Quinn Fabray"

"I..." Quinn hesitates and swallows nervously, her hands begin wring and her fingers twine together. Rachel's smile widens slightly at the show of the shy girl beneath the Head Cheerio armor. "I guess so"

Squeaking, Rachel claps her hands together and she jumps happily. Finally!

"You will not be disappointed!"

Quinn turns her head slightly as an attempt to hide the shy smile curling at her lips. In Rachel's excited clamor, she misses the soft murmur that leaves her newly pronounced friend's lips, "No, but I think you will be" and the words get lost in the faint breeze, only to be heard by Quinn herself.

Rachel, however, does calm down eventually and notices that Quinn's position has changed. The blonde now stands stock still and scrutinizes Rachel through narrowed eyes.

"If this is going to work, you will need to do everything as I say. Copy me, and do everything I do" She says and Rachel nods fervently. "I'll of course need to fix your hideous wardrobe, and you'll have to learn how to...well...Not smile" She adds, her eyes sizing Rachel up doubtfully. "Okay raise your right hand and say as I say"

Rachel quickly imitates Quinn's militant position and raises her right hand, smiling brilliantly all the way through.

"I, Rachel Berry" Quinn says and glances to Rachel. But Rachel pauses, looking confusedly at Quinn.

"Your name isn't Rachel, that's my name"

"Just shut up and repeat after me" Quinn snaps, making Rachel giggle nervously.

"I, Rachel Berry," Quinn says again, and this time, Rachel repeats in a serious tone. Well, as serious as she can make it. "Solemnly swear to do everything Quinn tells me to do," again, Rachel repeats. "Without question or complaint"

Again, a perfect repeat. Rachel finishes her oath with a squeal and smiles wildly, oblivious to the oath she'd just made. Quinn smiles a small, satisfied smile. Once again comfortable with her situation as the cold oath lies between them. As much as she desires people to be around her, instincts always tell her to remain at this cold, comfortable distance.

However, Rachel's chest explodes in warm little butterflies that flutter through her body and she throws herself around Quinn, uncontrollably excited for her achievement. She doesn't notice the hot blush that creeps across Quinn's cheeks as Rachel peppers polite kisses across her cheek, having forgotten for a moment that they were not acceptable.

.

~~ X ~~

.

It's been two days since Puck saw Quinn flown into the air.

The emotions of that night are sketched into his mind, and though the alcohol put a haze over the event, he remembers every detail.

He remembers stumbling down the hill, feeling giddy over the slight vanilla fragrance of Quinn's skin, and a strange combination of irritation and concern for Rachel as he called out for her.

He remembers her trembling silhouette in the darkness...and then the way his heart had pounded as he saw that Quinn was no longer where he left her and he remembers how quickly his mood turned from annoyed and confused to terrified as he saw Quinn stumble into the street while he himself was up at the top of the hill, unable to save her.

Then...Puck couldn't hear anything over the the blood rushing in his ears as the car swerved onto the street and rushed towards Quinn. His legs, he remembers, felt as weak as a newborn pup as he saw a flash of white, heard a surprised scream, and saw that Quinn...was no longer on the street.

And then...nothing.

Puck had spent another hour calling out to Quinn and Rachel, but eventually he collected the empty bottles and drove home with trembling hands and a tortured mind.

The worst part was when he got home and looked over to the passenger seat, which still held Quinn's imprints as she had reclined into the leather cushion an hour or so before, looking with gloomy eyes out the window.

The next day Puck got to school as usual, he hung out wit his friends, and dumped slushy on a few blacklisters. But his heart and mind simply wasn't in on the game.

He felt as if he were still stuck on that night and he kept replaying the images in his mind, looking for the first sign of trouble.

He saw both Quinn, Rachel, and Santana that day. He'd sat at his bench and watched the whole scene commence. First Rachel and Santana and then Santana and Quinn, and then just Quinn as she raged silently and stormed off campus.

No one bothered to tell him anything.

And now he sits just as he had the day before: unnoticed.

It's raining again, which means that everyone's spending their free period in the hallways; everyone, of course, except Quinn and Rachel (and him).  
>This means that nobody except him notices the strange way the girls interact.<p>

The girls stand in the middle of the quad, facing one another with soft smiles and an even softer conversation (to a point that even Puck has given up trying to eavesdrop).

Quinn holds a vibrant red umbrella in her hand so that the red hood hovers over her, occasionally Quinn will twirl the handle so that the umbrella becomes nothing but a red blur in the gray sky around them. Rachel stands beside Quinn, just out of reach from the umbrella, and lets the rain soak her through to the bone.

Rachel wears a white pea-coat that clings snugly to her petite form, a yellow beret, dark blue skinny jeans, and mug boots. It's fashionable and its obvious who is the cause of it. Quinn must have given Rachel some different clothes. But why? For charity? Or is she trying to adopt Rachel into the popular crowd?

Puck lets his eyes roam over Quinn's form appreciatively, noticing Quinn's golden hair all slicked back into a tight, controlled ponytail and the slim build of the hips that sway almost seductively in the rain. Quinn fits the part, she was born for this way of life and was conditioned for both its luxury and hardships.

Puck's gaze roam to the smaller form, Rachel, and sees her budding charm shining through the borrowed clothing, sees the narrow hips, delicate frame, and overall small appearance, uncharacteristic to her handsome features, strong jaw, larger nose, and smaller breasts.

Rachel is attractive but she doesn't fit the model, she has no chance of being popular in this school. Rachel's time to shine will come in years to come when people start caring about talent and not blonde-haired beauties. Why does Quinn bother? She knows better than the rest of them how these things go.

"You'll go cross-eyed if you stare like that for much longer"

Puck snaps his head up just in time to see Santana slink up to him and lounge at his side; upon sitting down, she pulls out her nail filer and immediately goes to work. Puck rolls his shoulders, tense and aware, waiting for her to speak again but the minutes tick by and Santana doesn't open her mouth again.

Finally, Puck can't stand it any longer. "I'm never going to know what happened between them, am I?"

"Nope." answers Santana in a low, gruff voice that makes Noah sigh. Subconsciously, his hand comes up and plays with the hair of his Mohawk and wastes a few seconds running his fingertips up and down the short, dark hair.

"I wish that I mattered to her." He murmurs, his throat as parched as paper, and promptly blinks in surprise. The blatant confession shocks him the most out of the two. Almost immediately, he stiffens and drops his hand to his side, feeling a hot blush begin to fill his cheeks. Santana's silence isn't helping blunt the embarrassment. "If you tell anybody what I just said I swear I will-"

"Oh please, don't even pretend." Santana says with a snort, pulling Noah's bravado up short. He clenches his fists and glares at Santana but if she notices his stare she doesn't act upon it. Instead, she stares off towards the forest with an almost longing stare and after a long moment of unsuccessful pouting, Noah deflates with another sigh.

Turning his head, he directs his attention towards the two girls once again as silence reigns over him and Santana.

Rachel has pulled a daisy out from the crack in the cement (how a daisy has managed to survive through winter, he'll never know. Luckily, Puck isn't interested enough to care) and now runs a careful finger over the velvety, white petals.

Quinn twirls her umbrella and turns her attention towards Rachel, who immediately puts the daisy directly under Quinn's pink nose.

It was an awfully romantic gesture and the mere look of it makes Noah squirm.

The whole scene makes Puck anxious and he doesn't know why. They are acting innocent enough, he has no doubt in his mind that Rachel's intentions are pure; yet, there is an electricity in the air, a strange tension pulsing between the two girls that makes him uncomfortable. He almost feels as if he should look away, as if he were watching something far too personal for a stranger to intervene.

Quinn's blush looks far more intense behind the daisy's glimmering white petals, with fluttering eyelids and twitching lips, Quinn gives her undivided attention to the ground.

Swaying on her feet, Quinn plucks the flower from Rachel's hand with deft fingers. Then she is twirling the red umbrella with one hand and twisting the white daisy in the other. An enigmatic smile tugs at the corners of her mouth as she cups the delicate, sun-shaped flower and when she speaks, Noah is surprised to know that he can hear her.

Something must have distracted her from the secrecy and forced her into a normal volume.

"Did you know that a daisy symbolizes purity and innocence?" She asks in a matter-of-fact tone. Her smile turns ironic, as if she can't believe that Rachel actually gave her _this_ flower.

Rachel stares curiously at Quinn, tilting her head with keen attention as Quinn runs a finger up the slim, white petal and brushes against the sunny yellow center. "My mother got me _The Meaning of Flowers_ for my birthday." She explains and the edges of her bittersweet smile turns shy.

Puck notices that Rachel reacts strangely to the word birthday, her eyebrows furrow an infraction before smoothing out again. It's as if the word didn't make sense in the sentence, as if the word belonged to some different language that Quinn had slipped into while speaking.

However, Quinn is oblivious to this and she continues her story with a small shrug. "I don't know, I think she figured that it'd help me seem interesting and deep without actually being that." There's a moment of silence in which Rachel's smile grows so warm that, for a moment, Noah forgets it's the middle of winter while Quinn's smile twists into something sad. "Turns out, not many people want to talk about flowers"

"_I_ find it interesting"

"You're probably the only one"

The conversation slowly lowers in volume, becoming whispers once again. But Noah's heard just enough to know why he feels so uncomfortable. As observant as Puck likes to think of himself as, he has never seen Quinn quite like this. He's certain that Quinn would never in a _million_ years admit that she's_ read_ about the symbolism in flowers.

It's like seeing the dark side of the moon.

Puck has just realized that he lives in a world where Rachel is the sun and Quinn is the moon, and he isn't supposed to see the parts of Quinn that Rachel illuminates.

His place is seeing what is reflected to him by Quinn herself. His place is on Earth while Rachel and Quinn are in the stars, in another world.

_The two girls think they are alone, let them be alone, Puck _

"This is just so weird." He mutters to himself, having forgotten that Santana is actually sitting beside him.

"I know," She replies, making him jump. His head snaps back to her and he sees the befuddlement that etches across her brows and turns her lips sour in a way that must mirror Puck. _Well_, he thinks, _at least I'm not alone in this confusion_.

"I almost don't want to watch" He admits, resting his arms on his knees and rubbing his hands together to keep them warm.

Santana turns her head slowly and puffs out a visible breath in the cold air, making it look as if she's just bellowed out smoke from an invisible cigarette.

At noticing this he sits up and looks harder at Santana now, wondering why she isn't smoking right now. This tends to be her time. "No smoke today?" He asks, cocking his head with a teasing grin.

She makes a face and shrugs.

"Eh, I guess I'm going to quit"

"Huh, I'm disappointed. I always wondered what you would look like with a hole in your throat" He says with a laugh, making her grimace in a way that he's learned to call a smile.

"Sucks for you" Santana grumbles gruffly, but the edges of her lips turn up into a smirk and she sends a sidelong glance his way.

"Definitely" He replies and widens his grin.

With nothing else to say, Puck settles into a comfortable silence and reclines into his seat on the bench while Santana goes back to her nail filer, despite the fact that her nails have now been ground down to the stubs, and they waste a good five minutes that way.

But after a good while Santana starts to shift uncomfortably, making Noah glance at her. But when she says nothing, he goes back to doing nothing. A moment later, Santana squirms and parts her lips, before swallowing and closing her mouth again. She's anxious to say something but acts as if she doesn't quite know how, Noah twines his fingers together and waits patiently for his friend to speak.

"I'm...I'm going to leave again...soon...I think" She murmurs finally, staring down at her hands as she speaks. Noah's lips turns down slightly and he turns his head to Santana completely, giving her his full attention; for once since the beginning of his free period, the two girls in the rain in front of him become nothing more than a background thought. He doesn't bother asking where Santana plans on going because he knows that she'll never tell.

"Why?"

"I used to think that this is where I belonged." Santana starts, furrowing her brows, "but then I went to...that place and well..." She swallows and fidgets, struggling with her words as if she were trying to decode them in her mind as she spoke them. "I feel different" She says finally, resolutely, as if it's the only thing that can make sense. "I don't fit anymore"

Noah screws his eyes and thinks about what she's just said. It doesn't make much sense to him but, then again, he doesn't think too hard into it; Puck figures that it doesn't really matter _why_ she decides to leave, all that really matters is that Santana is leaving again.

"I can't say I'm glad you're leaving" Noah mumbles, scratching his neck with a sad frown. For some reason, it feels as if everyone's leaving at once. But that isn't right. Is it? "When are you going?"

"I'm not sure. I can't just leave with the way things are. But I promise that you'll know about it when I do, I'll make sure to say goodbye this time" She hums, her lips stretching into a smile. "I'm worried about Quinn" She says finally

"Yeah, me too," _but that isn't new, _he adds sourly in his mind.

"She's trying to make Rachel popular." Santana muses, her voice suddenly sounding rich with sarcastic amusement. "Like in _Wicked_," she scoffs and shakes her head.

"It won't work" Noah replies and a strange sound lifts to his ears but he ignores it without thought. However, when Santana snaps her head up in surprise Noah follows her gaze back to Rachel and Quinn and hears the rare sound once again. Quinn's laughter.

Santana and Puck share a curious glance to each other and then back to the pair, mirroring one another with quirked eyebrows. _Now there's something you don't hear everyday_.

It's odd, this laughter. It doesn't sound like the fake and light sound Quinn usually makes, like the twinkle of bells. This laughter is throaty and uncontrolled, keening from deep in Quinn's throat like the rev of a car engine. It's real.

"I know" Santana says belatedly, a sigh as light as the breeze whispering past her lips. Her shoulders are suddenly heavy and Noah feels as if he shares the weight burdening her shoulders. Swallowing, he shakes his head and feels a pain deep in his chest as a cynical hatred for the world balls up like lead inside his heart.

For a few minutes, nobody talks and all that can be heard is the pitter-patter of rain on cement.

In the distance, Rachel stumbles on some invisible object (or her own feet, the poor girl was so clumsy she could fall while lying down) and an emotion of resigned horror contorts her expression into something almost comical.

But Rachel doesn't fall.

Just as her face is about to connect with a bench, a hand lashes out so quickly and latches onto Rachel's form. The hand obviously belongs to Quinn and she pulls Rachel up to her standing position in no time. It's an interesting scene, the majestic Queen of the school helping out the poor, awkward blacklister (Is she still on the blacklist?) onto her feet. It was like one of those videos he's seen on YouTube of the tiger taking care of pigs in tiger skin.

"Have you ever seen that video of the Lioness and the Oryx?" Santana asks in a way that could be seemingly random, but it reads his thoughts exactly.

"You know, I was thinking the same thing" He replies, sending an affectionate grin to his friend. "I have to hand it to Rachel though, she seems to have finally befriended Quinn, though I didn't think it possible."

Meanwhile, Quinn broadens her shoulders and looks subtly over the smaller, trembling girl beside her. Over the past half-hour, Rachel's gotten thoroughly soaked through and is now shivering violently. It's her own fault really, but the Lioness can't help but worry over her little Oryx.

Without a word, the red umbrella finds its way over Rachel's form until it covers both of them. Rachel looks over to Quinn first, but the blonde doesn't look back, and then looks up at the umbrella over her head.

She seems momentarily transfixed by what she sees and Noah remembers when he was younger and easily entertained, he would look up at the umbrella and watch as the raindrops fall onto the plastic, converge with other raindrops, and then roll down the sloping sides of the umbrella and drop to the floor beside his feet.

It wouldn't surprise him if Rachel was entertained in the same way.

Quinn turns her head and murmurs something to Rachel who blinks and rips her gaze from the top of the umbrella to nod vigorously to Quinn.

The bell rings and their free period ends. As if waking up from a dream, Quinn blinks and starts walking towards class. Rachel follows, moving on awkward limbs, at her heels and beaming like a happy little pup.

_Here we go_, Puck thinks, and starts off towards his class.

.

~~ X ~~

.

Long, manicured nails thrum uneasily at the base of a silk skirt that brushes just below the knees, a respectable length, while a thumb runs mindlessly along the slick screen of her Iphone.

Every few seconds, she will look down at her phone and hope to see the screen light up with a new alert. It's a hope that has run through her mind for nearly six years and shows no sign of tiring.

"Judy!" The familiar, gruff call from her husband pulls her shoulders back in attention.

Turning her head, she sees Russell looking back at her with a slimming white shirt tucked into black slacks and a blood red tie hanging loosely around his neck. His cold eyes regard her authoritatively as he approaches her with the usual prideful swing to his broad shoulders.

A very small smile quirks at her lips at seeing his pursed lips that silently tell her that, yes, after almost twenty years of wearing ties every day he still is unable to knot them right. Running her hands down her skirt, she fixes the rumples, and walks to her husband. Gently, she places her hands on the red fabric and immediately starts tying it. "Have you heard anything from Gracie?" He asks and Judy gives a minute shake of her head.

Russell doesn't say anything else, but his stern eyes have tightened slightly and it makes her hands fumble. "Careful, Judy" he reprimands.

Most people say that the first child is the difficult one: parents in general are simply too young and too scared to raise that first child just right.

Well, it was quite the opposite for Judy and Russell.

From the very first time Judy held her little girl, she knew that Grace was special. The little bundle didn't cry, she snuggled into Judy's arms with a pink face - like a blooming rose- and squinted up at her mother with soft blue eyes. The nine months of trembling fear and dark doubts had vanished in the short moment it took Grace to look up at her mother. What replaced terror was the warmth of maternal love.

As a child, Grace was a delicate little creature with skin as white as the under-bloom of a pearl and shining blue eyes; as she grew older, beauty and intelligence layered onto that basis of fragility. The effect was stunning, people simply couldn't stay away from her and it seemed that girls, boys, and even animals were drawn to her subtle (and modest) allure; once they were in her orbit they were captured by an overpowering urge to protect the girl.

She simply danced through life and collected the rewards people threw at her with a gracious smile.

Quinn was a different story.

Judy well...She simply didn't know what to do with her.

Everything was simply so different! Judy had been in labor for nearly twelve hours and by the time the doctors had given the newly born to Judy, she had practically collapsed in fatigue.

When Judy held Quinn in her arms that first night she couldn't help but compare her little child to Grace; Quinn came out purple, and she hadn't sat still in Judy's arms like Grace had. Quinn seemed to have been unwilling to leave the womb because she couldn't stop _crying _and_ squirming_ and no amount of cooing or patting could comfort her. She was determined to be miserable, and frankly it left an impression.

It's not that she didn't love Quinn or anything monstrous like that, a mother always loves her daughter, but it simply felt like bad timing.

Grace was about to enter kindergarten and she was _already_ batting boys away with both hands. So Judy told herself that she'd just focus on Grace, wait for the dust to settle, figure everything out, and then properly interact with her new daughter.

But it seemed as if nothing ever quite settled down! Grace was asked out again! Grace won little miss beauty Queen. Grace was trying out for ballet. Grace wanted to be a cheerleader. Grace is going to high school!

And before she knew it, Judy turned around one day and saw a little twelve year old sitting beside her, grasping a book in her hand as if it were her life line, and reading each page with a slow, calculated diligence. The book was...Oh dear, what was it? There was a boy on the cover..._Harry Potter_. Yes, that was the book.

She had cocked her head and stared with wide eyes at that little girl as one thought ran through her head: _how in the world did she manage to get so old?_

The little girl bobbed her head and hummed happily to a song playing on her CD player, her loose blonde curls danced around her head as she read.

However, noticing Judy's stare, she stopped and looked up at her mother with soft hazel eyes.

She was slender with stick-thin arms and legs, and her gaping mouth revealed the flash of wire braces.

Gracie didn't need braces, but Quinn's teeth came in differently, crooked and in need of straightening. Imperfect.

As though knowing what her mother was thinking, the child corrected herself and replaced the open-mouthed gawk with a quickly tightening closed-mouth smile. Judy could only blink again.

She didn't understand this little girl, she didn't know what to say or even what to do now that the girl was_ looking_ at her. She remembers, a long time ago, that she used to make fun of kids who read a lot, giggled even as their glasses slipped down their nose and left their eyes unfocused and bare. Don't even get her started on those metal-mouths.

Through the ongoing silence, Quinn touched a hand to her closed mouth and shrunk under her mother's scrutinizing gaze.

Then, suddenly Grace was a Junior in High school. Grace won Prom Queen. Grace was Head Cheerio. Grace was a Senior. Grace, Grace, Grace.

The little girl quickly slipped from Judy's attention and fell in step behind them, just out of reach.

Before anyone knew it, Grace was going to college and with her absence came a shift in the family. Everyone could feel the gaping hole she left behind and it blew such a cold emptiness into their protected tent of a family. The whole world seemed to darken, and with that change came a realization: Judy and Russell suddenly had nothing to protect anymore.

With empty hands, they looked around and wondered what the next step was in their life.

It was then, that a stranger stepped out from the shadows; a gorgeous stranger with a practiced smile and cold, cold eyes.

It was strange, how similar she looked to Grace, and there was no doubt that she held her older sister's beauty, but there was a hardness beneath the soft skin that frightened Judy.

Cautiously, they ushered Quinn into the spotlight and watched as she stretched and morphed herself to replicate Grace. Suddenly it is Quinn with the boyfriend, Quinn is Head Cheerio, Quinn is Queen.

No longer exists the girl who reads _Harry Potter_ as if it were the Bible or who dances and sings like nobody's watching. That girl is gone, hidden somewhere within this _replica_. Judy doesn't really know the real Quinn, but she _does_ know that she misses her. Perhaps she was too afraid of disliking her daughter to see that, but it's obvious now.

But like so many important things, Judy realizes this far too late.

A soft vibrating calls to Judy's attention and she blinks, turning away from Russell and his neat tie to pick up her phone.

"Mother?" A clear voice resounds through the phone, making Judy swallow.

"Is it Grace?" Russell asks, his voice revealing a sort of spirit that has been long gone. Biting her lip, Judy turns to her husband and shakes her head softly.

"Quinn? What is it?" She asks, she doesn't need to look to register her husband's utter disappointment. "Is everything alright?" She asks unnecessarily, feeling the need to make up for her utter lack of concern to Quinn in past years.

"Yes" The voice replies, clipped and dignified but not cutting. "I wanted to invite my friend over for a movie tonight."

"Oh" Judy hums, her mind going blank. The thought of making a decision makes her flighty and nervous, so she turns to Russell and repeats Quinn's request.

Russell looks at her and sighs, his large hands fasten and unfasten the tie at his neck, before giving a small nod of affirmation.

"I suppose, as long as she does her homework first... And doesn't stay up too late" He breathes in a tone that almost replicates Quinn's before turning out and walking out the door.

Judy sighs and looks after him, watching his august pose as he slinks down the stairs.

Russell never quite got over Grace, she was the light of his life so when she left, she took his heart with her. Now alone in the room, Judy thinks (not for the first time) that they were meant to have only one child.

"Yes, you may invite your friend as long as you do your homework"

Silence. Judy's mind races for something to say, to somehow cross the bridge to her daughter's mind. Licking her lips, she takes a breath and is on the verge of saying something when Quinn clears her throat. Immediately, Judy is subdued to silence.

Age has given her chains: she's no longer the independent Cheerleader in high school, she's spent too many years being the stay-at-home Mom and the good, submissive wife. The head-strong, popular conversationalist is nothing but a shadow in her mind now.

"Okay, thank you" Quinn says, her tone is low and resolute. "Bye"

"Have fun" Judy breathes to the crackling static of the dead phone.

.

~~ X ~~

.

_Pop!_

A slim package of Orville's popcorn lies in the microwave, rotating slowly as the microwave hums with energy. Quinn leans against the counter and stares at the popcorn.

_Pop!_

The bag slowly rises as the kernels within it explode.

Is it the heat or the time that causes the hard shells to disappear and the fluffy, vulnerable insides to come out?

How much time could a kernel take before finally giving into the heat? Is there a warning? A small buzzing, perhaps, to give the kernel a chance to sweat before turning inside out? Or is it random?

Does the kernel lay in wait, knowing it's fate, wondering with each second when its protected shell will evaporate?

Quinn sighs and rubs at her temples. Great, now she's starting to rhyme. Now would be a good time to stop thinking altogether.

_Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop!_

"Quinn, I'm not quite sure how this Pop-corn should work, but my observations tell me that perhaps the corn is ready"

The voice makes Quinn jump, just barely reeling out from her own thoughts as she tries to focus back onto the microwave, and back to the problem. Black smoke leaks from the top of the closed door.

"_Oh_" Quinn cries and rips open the door, wafting away the smoke. Cautiously, she pulls the bag out, burning her fingertips. She hisses as she maneuvers around Rachel's observant form and quickly tries to pour the popcorn into the given bowl. For some unexplainable reason, this makes Rachel clap as if she's just witnessed something grand instead of burning popcorn.

Rachel faces the bowl and observes it with a small, excited smile while Quinn sighs and drifts to the other side of the counter, facing Rachel and the bowl. Quietly, she sits down on a stool and puts her chin in her hand, and accidently, her eyes wander back to Rachel, watching her as she experimentally plucks a popcorn piece out of the bunch.

Quinn is tired. Honestly, she doesn't know how she used to do it, handling the Cheerios, her boyfriend, the school and all the other ragtag boys and girls she has to keep her eyes on. With Finn constantly trying to talk to her, apologizing and whimpering like a dog for their past arguments whilst sending puppy-dog eyes to Rachel. Which is unacceptable of course.

If there is one thing she's learned over the years, it is this: boys are like dogs. When they make a mistake, one has to shove their nose in it or else they'll simply do it again.

It's tedious work going through all the trouble of Finn's punishment. She's planned it all out in her head, like a list, she's ignoring him right now and working to keep Rachel away from him. Then they will progress into the occasional slushy and perhaps even a dumpster throw, just to remind him who is in control here.

Of course, all of this work of modeling Finn back into the obedient boyfriend will hurt their image as a couple. This means that she'll have to work harder in the future to make them seem perfect again; however, she will only do that once he admits that he's wrong and apologizes properly. Which means more work, more trouble, more sleepless nights thinking about how to fix this messy situation he's gotten them into. It is his fault, after all, that she discovered Rachel and threw out her equilibrium. Had he only been a decent boyfriend, she would have never tried to find solace in Puck and would have never imagined...

Meanwhile, Rachel may have her own plans of pursuing Finn. Which is another worry she has to consider, and by far the most infuriating. Rachel is an uncontrollable factor in this equation and whether or not she has feelings for Finn can change the whole answer.

These thoughts feel so tedious. Ever since last night, none of these problems seem important anymore. But they are important; once she's out of High school, she'll be glad she worked so hard... Right? Her mind peeks down the bottomless abyss she had found the other night and her thoughts tumble down, each one growing more desolate as they fall. _How am I going to do this_? _What's the point_?

A slow pulse pounds at the back of Quinn's eyes and she rubs slow circles into her temples. _Take a deep breath before you worry yourself to death, _she reminds herself and attempts to take the given advice. But her breathing is ragged and shallow and attempting to cease the chaos in her mind only makes it more noticeable.

"Quinn, I have decided that Pop-corn is the best thing I've ever tasted." Rachel says, her voice deliberate with certainty. Quinn peeks out from between her fingers in order to see Rachel observing another piece of popcorn.

The girl holds out her tongue and plops the puffy kernel on it, the following smile growing more ecstatic from just another taste. It's sort of cute, in an odd and dorky way. Quinn's thoughts slowly dim and a small smile tugs at her lips as she sits up. Her eyes focus on those puffy lips, glossy with butter and salt, pulled tightly into an ever-present smile.

"You really haven't tasted popcorn before, have you?" She says this absently, the question itself almost catching her by surprise. Her attention slowly drags itself up from the girl's lips to those warm and happy eyes, knowing that Rachel had pointed this out within the first minute of being here. Rachel's eyes widen and she shrugs with her light little smile in a way that says: _obviously_. "Okay, that was stupid" She admits and Rachel quirks her lips and grabs the bowl of popcorn.

An odd rigidity injects itself into her muscles and makes her skin all scratchy and uncomfortable as her mind connects the lines (once again) with Rachel and _not human_.

"Let's watch the movie"

.

~~ X ~~

.

The room is dark and quiet. The only light comes from the blank blue screen of the television and the only sound is the soft, harmonized breath of the two girls. All is calm.

In the beginning, the girls sat on opposite sides of the couch with the popcorn bowl sitting between them. But as the night grew older and Quinn's eyes slowly drifted shut, Rachel slipped under the arm of her new friend. She watched the movie like that, and fell even further in love with the human race. She had never known such a curious species before. A species that felt it necessary, and enjoyable, to place themselves in front of a camera for others to watch and be entertained. A species that is constantly pushing itself to the edge of intellectual awareness, proposing theories, creating obsessions, and predicting its own demise. A species that is so utterly spectacular as well as it is self-destructive.

Her cheek now lay over Quinn's breast so that each deep breath drew Rachel's head into an undulating motion that lulled her into the warm intimacy that she had been missing so terribly from home. Quietly, she sat up from her position and looked upon Quinn's sleeping face, remembering warmly the peaceful countenance that can only truly come out when she's unconscious.

Placing a warm palm over her cheek, she feels a warmth blossom in her chest and blanket her cheeks, almost overwhelming her. This feeling she has is almost too much, more than she's ever felt before. She can't put a name to it, but she knows the repercussions of it.

Rachel looks down at this sad, misguided human and finds direction. She knows what she needs to do.

"I'll be your angel"

* * *

><p><strong>Hey guys.<strong>

**Yikes, that took a while.**

**Sooo...I've got some news: I can't write this story anymore. **

**I'm going to college and life is only going to get busier from here on out so I need to quit while I'm ahead and focus on my life. Actually, I wrote this chapter months ago and got up to the end before becoming raving mad and giving up. But then, I got this amazing review and I decided that I would publish the last piece of my efforts. Also, it would be terrible if I left this story on such a bad note. Anyway, I apologize if you find the story choppy because this chapter was the hardest to write for me. I just wanted to say thank you for being amazing readers and reviewers, this has been a blast. **

**By the way, I loved writing this story. It is my favorite, even with its flaws, but I simply can't continue. So, if anyone is curious as to how I was going to continue it please message me and I will tell you. **

**Now I say goodbye**


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